


It's The House Telling You to Close Your Eyes

by nomical



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Folklore, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomical/pseuds/nomical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur is small, Ygraine dies and Uther moves him and Morgana to London, away from their childhood home of Pendragon Manor. After Uther's death twenty years later, Arthur and Morgana are forced to return to a home they'd long forgotten to find an infuriatingly attractive Merlin running the estate, and a series of odd circumstances that can't be explained logically. Or can they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ssbailey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssbailey/gifts).



> This was written for [glomp_fest](http://glomp-fest.livejournal.com/) 2013 on livejournal for glompee [ssbailey](http://ssbailey.livejournal.com/). I'm so sorry that real life got in the way and that this is still a WIP. I loved your original prompt so much that I decided to make it as detailed as possible which came back to bite me in the ass. Don't worry though, I'm not going to abandon this fic and I hope to have it finished and completely posted by the end of the week. I hope it's turning out somewhat how you envisioned it! Thanks to [fingerprintbruises](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fingerprintbruises/pseuds/fingerprintbruises) for the beta :)

Arthur doesn't remember much about his childhood home. Sometimes he'll have dreams about the place but wake up with only the faintest of images remaining and he can't work out if they are memories or just snippets from other, long-forgotten dreams. He remembers sunlight and playing in a pair of sheer curtains. He remembers the way the shag rug felt between his toes and the way his father yelled at him for pulling out the fibres. He has a vague memory of sitting by his mother's sickbed while machines beeped in the background. But his most important memory is one Arthur doesn't know he has, buried deep under the scar tissue of years of repression and disbelief. Because Arthur remembers the last time he saw his mother. And it was after her funeral.

***

“Come on Arthur, you don't want to make father angry. Not today.” Morgana tugged on his arm insistently.

Arthur shook his arm out of Morgana's grip and curled further in on himself. “Go away Morgana. I'm not going. You and father can move. I'm going to stay here and wait for Mummy.” He knew he was being what Father called ‘petulant’ but he refused to crawl out from under the bed. Coming out from under the bed meant Father could find him and if Father could find him then he could put him in the car and take him away. Away from home, and away from Mummy. And if they left Mummy behind she would be angry. Father being angry was scary enough, but Mummy being angry was something Arthur never wanted to see again. Not after the last time.

There was a sigh and some scuffling as the bed was pulled out from the wall, before Morgana's head hung upside down in front of his, her long hair pooling on the floor. Even upside down, Arthur could see her big green eyes were full of pity. He hated the look of pity. Everyone was doing it.

“Arthur, you're a big boy now. You know what it means when someone dies. It means she's not coming back.”

“I'm not listening.” He stuffed his fingers in his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. “She didn't die and she is coming back. You're wrong, not listening.” He continued rambling, his voice getting louder and taking on a sing-song quality. He had just reached a truly impressive volume for a six year old when the bed vanished above him and hands grabbed him by his shoulders and hauled him to his feet.

“Stop that horrible caterwauling immediately!” Uther growled. “Why are you not in the car? I sent Morgana to fetch you ten minutes ago.”

Shocked from the frenzy he had whipped himself into and his father's furious expression, Arthur's lower lip started to wobble.

“I'm not going,” he whispered.

“What was that?”

“I'm not going,” he tried again, more boldly.

Uther's eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”

“Because Mummy isn't dead, she's just resting. The fairies in the garden said she'd be back before the week was done so - ” his breath cut off with a whoosh as Uther picked him up around the middle and carried him downstairs. Arthur clutched helplessly at the banister, his sweaty fingers leaving streaks on the dark oak. He squirmed and tried to break free but his father's grip was relentless. Uther deposited him in the backseat of the cab beside Morgana and strapped him in before getting into the front next to the driver. Arthur twisted in his seat, desperate to get free of the buckle, panic threatening to overwhelm him. As the car started to move down the driveway, he looked out of the rear windshield and back at the house where his mother waved at them from the doorway.

“See!” He giggled. “She's back! Just like the fairies said she'd be! I told you al-” Arthur's speech was cut off as Uther whipped around in his seat and cuffed him hard. Morgana gasped but Arthur was too shocked to do anything but hold his ringing ear. Overhead, the rumble of thunder pierced the silence and rain began to pelt down on the roof of the cab.

“I never want to hear you say anything like that ever again,” said Uther, his voice dangerously low. “Your mother is dead. There is no such thing as fairies and there is no such thing as magic. Do. You. Understand?”

Arthur bit his lip to keep it from trembling and nodded; eyes wide and rapidly filling with tears. As soon as Uther turned around, Morgana tried to pull Arthur into her lap but he resisted her ministrations. Undaunted, Morgana settled for lacing their fingers together on the seat between them. Arthur didn't look at her, staring straight ahead as the tears began to seep out of his eyes. He kept his gaze straight forward for the rest of the trip. He didn't see his mother fading into nothingness behind them.

***

“I'm sorry Mr. Pendragon, he passed away last night. His heart just gave out; there was nothing more we could do.”

Arthur tuned out the rest of the conversation. A few words like ‘arrangements’ and ‘will’ slipped through fog but most of what the man was saying slid off the numb blanket of shock that settled around him. He mumbled his goodbyes at what he hoped was an appropriate time and hung up. He sat there, unmoving and unfeeling until the phone rang again. He picked it up without looking at the display.

“Hello Morgana.”

“Oh, Arthur,” her voice was muffled but he could still hear the wobble in her greeting. “How are you?”

“I've been better.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Listen, where are you?”

“I'm in Milan. I've got a collection debuting next week but I can fly back as soon as my assistant gets in.”

“Don't bother.” He looked at the clock. “It's the dead of night here. The earliest flight I can take won't be leaving ’til at least nine. I'll text you the details so you can coordinate.”

“Alright. The usual place?”

“Always.” He hesitated. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know. Look, I'll talk to you soon, okay?” She hung up without waiting for a response.

“Yeah.” He replied to the dial tone, not knowing at all how Morgana was dealing with the death of their father.

‘ _The death of our father._ ’

Arthur lay on his back in the dark, unable to sleep. Rain lashed at the windows and Arthur laughed at the grim humour of the setting. The phone call in the middle of the night bearing bad news, the rain poetically falling to complement the overall dark mood.

‘ _All we need now is some low orchestral music with a swelling violin and it's the opening sequence to every prodigal son dark comedy turned romcom ever. Except, unlike_ Garden State _, I'm not going to meet the quirky love of my life as we bond over my history of parental neglect and his history of lying_.’

When he finally conceded that sleep was not an option, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water washed over him as he went through the motions mechanically. He packed in a similar manner, tossing his things in at random. In the end, he managed to fit all his belongings into two suitcases and a carry-on.

‘ _Now that's sad_ ,’ he thought before remembering what he was actually supposed to feel sad about. He felt sick at how quickly he had forgotten.

He got lucky with his cab driver, who drove him to JFK in blissful silence. He paid his way to fly first class on the next available flight to Heathrow and once onboard, texted Morgana the details, then drugged himself into a dreamless sleep. The next thing he was aware of was being shaken awake by an elderly flight attendant.

“Welcome to the United Kingdom sir,” he boomed, far too awake for an eight hour flight. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”

“Neither. I live here. Sometimes. Or at least I used to.” His words are thick and slurred with sleep. He blinked a couple times and looked up to find the attendant looking at him consideringly.

“Yes, you do, don't you. Welcome home, young Pendragon.” He was gone before Arthur could fully process his odd welcome and a smiling blonde waited on Arthur for the remainder of the flight.

He made it through baggage and customs with minimal aggravation before the residual drugs in his system pulled him under once more in the back of the cab. He woke when the driver slammed the boot, depositing the last of his baggage on the dolly for a bellhop. Arthur stumbled out of the cab and told the driver to keep the change, as he passed him a hundred pound note and followed the bellhop inside.

“Welcome to The Ritz, sir. May I ask the name the reservation is under?” asked the concierge.

“No reservation, but I'd like to book two suites for Arthur and Morgana Pendragon, and please for the love of god, do not make them joining.”

“Certainly sir,” the concierge smiled in an annoyingly knowing way, like the two of them were sharing an old joke, and started typing.

Arthur rattled off his details while he took in his surroundings. He hadn't been here in almost a year but the décor was much the same. He and Morgana had started meeting here when they were sixteen and on break from their various boarding schools. They were rarely in London at the same time but, being young and wealthy, they had decided to make a production of it whenever they were. Of course, most nights they just ordered room service and watched bad films, but it all felt classier doing it at a famous venue. They used to keep a tally of how many movies they watched that had either taken place or been shot in the hotel. That list had long since disappeared. After Arthur's move to New York, they saw even less of each other but still managed to keep their tradition going, ten years strong.

“I'll have Morris take you up to your rooms,” said the concierge, interrupting his reverie. Arthur gave him a tight smile and followed the bellhop, who he assumed was Morris, to his room.

 ‘ _Why did I even bother wearing this get-up on a bloody plane?_ ’ he thought irritably as he loosened his tie and pulled off his jacket. He yanked back the covers and burrowed into the pillows, using the controls on the nightstand to close the blinds. He was just drowsy enough to fall back asleep when there was a knock on his door. He let out a low grumble and rolled out of bed.

“You're losing your touch Morgana,” he said, pulling the door open. “I've been here for at least fifteen minutes.”

“Wrong,” she said, sweeping past him. “I took the tube and got here an hour ago so I decided to spend a little time on Oxford Street while I waited.”

“You took the tube? How very plebeian of you.”

“Cram it, brother dearest. Or I won't give you the new Lanvin cufflinks I picked up for you.”

Arthur had a brief mental battle with himself, but his love of designer cufflinks won out in the end and he sighed half-heartedly.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Pendragon,” an aggrieved Morris poked his head into the room. “I tried to tell her there were two suites booked but she insisted.”

Any other day, Arthur would have found the twist of Morris' mouth funny and maybe made a joke about Morgana's queen-like tendencies. “It's alright Morris. Just leave Ms. Pendragon's things in the other suite, please. That will be all.”

He shut the door on Morris' unhappy pucker and turned to find Morgana kicking off her heels and getting under the covers.

“Oh no you don't,” he crossed his arms and assumed what he hoped was a position of authority at the foot of the bed. “You're only an hour ahead of London time, you don't get to nap.”

Morgana ignored him in favour of fluffing the pillows to her high standard of comfort. “These sheets are lovely. Egyptian cotton, at least a 500 thread count, wouldn't you say?”

Arthur twitched and rolled his eyes. “More like 600.” He sank down on the bed reluctantly and Morgana beamed at him, pulling the sheet back like an invitation.

“Morgana, I was being serious about you having your own room. We aren't children anymore.”

She rolled her eyes at him but continued to hold the sheet up. “We both know full well we're going to end up crashing in front of the T.V. anyways.”

“True,” he conceded, “but we aren't children anymore. The staff know we aren't married, isn't it going to look a little strange if two grown-up siblings share a bed?”

“Arthur, we're Pendragons, when has incest ever been a point of contention?” she replied breezily.

Arthur blushed. “In medieval times sure, keep the blood line strong but in the 21st century don't you think we're crossing some boundaries?”

She smiled wickedly at him. “Cousin Morgause and Uncle Agravaine definitely didn't hook up in medieval times.”

“They're second cousins twice removed!” The conversation had gotten rapidly out of hand and was reminding Arthur of some very awkward holidays and stilted dinner parties he'd rather never revisit again.

Morgana's arm drooped and she made an impatient noise. “Relax Arthur, I'm not after your virtue, not that you have it anymore anyways. I promise I won't molest you in your sleep.” His mental pictures grew increasingly more disturbing and his face must have reflected the disgust he felt because Morgana suddenly burst out laughing.

“I'm not worried about you molesting me!” he half-shouted, “I'm worried about the reputation we could get if the cleaners find your room spotless and two sets of shoes in mine.”

“Arthur, calm down! No one is going to think anything of it. And if it becomes a problem, we'll just throw money at it until it goes away like we always do.”

Arthur's willpower lasted for all of four seconds before he crawled up the bed and under the covers.

“Good boy,” said Morgana in what she clearly thought to be a soothing voice, petting his hair as he slid down on the mattress.

“That's really not as comforting as you think it is,” he grumbled, but leaned slightly into the touch anyway. Morgana took that as an invitation to pull Arthur's head up onto her shoulder breaking the sense of security into which he had been lulled. After struggling for a moment, the two of them eventually found a comfortable position, Arthur’s head on Morgana's chest and her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He reluctantly laid an arm across her stomach and tried his best not to curl into her side, despite how comforting it would feel.

She resumed playing with his hair, but in a softer way than before, gently combing her fingers through layer by layer. With his eyes closed, he imagined he could feel each individual hair falling back down, tickling his neck and forehead. He sighed at how peaceful it all was. But of course, Morgana couldn't just let a moment be.

“My poor baby brother, how long has it been since someone took care of you properly?”

“Before I answer that, I need to clarify that by ‘properly’ you mean sex, and if I give you a date outside your timeline of acceptability, you won't volunteer for the job.”

She laughed and Arthur could feel the vibrations through his whole body. “When did you turn into such a pervert? I meant when was the last time you dated someone? but I guess the last time you hooked up works too.”

“The answer to both those questions is none of your business.”

“I take it that means a long time then? Just answer this: was it before or after the move?”

“Still none of your business.”

“Oh, Arthur.” He squeezed he eyes shut tighter at the sadness in her voice. He almost wished she had laughed or been condescending instead. That was easier to take than pity. Someone laughing at you meant you could put up a wall and not let anything in. Empathy meant people were trying to scale the wall you’d already built. Arthur didn’t deal well with empathy.

“Just leave it Morgana, please. At least for today.”

She sighed but remained mercifully quiet afterwards and continued carding his hair until he couldn't bear the moment’s tenderness.

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“Not recently enough. It was just after I got to Italy so,” she paused, “about two weeks ago. He called to make sure I'd gotten to my hotel safely and hadn't been mugged.”

“I pity the mugger that tries to rob you. Do you still carry a switchblade around with you?”

“Obviously.”

“How on earth do you get it through security?”

“I say it's an accessory for a new line that's in development. I'm just lucky none of them ever bother fact-checking; the Myror line has been in development for ten years based on that excuse.”

“Father would be proud.”

“I like to think so.”

They both knew they were being ridiculous; Uther would not have found the idea of Morgana carrying a weapon appealing, lest she hurt herself. But then again, Uther never did know about Morgana's real strength, Arthur thought sadly. And now he never would.

“That was just so his way though, wasn't it?” The question suited both Arthur's current thoughts and where their conversation had left off before the switchblade conversation.

“What, over-protective to the point of absurd?”

“While simultaneously not caring about you in any way that mattered.” Arthur tried not to react to her words but his body stiffened against his will. Morgana stopped stroking his hair and sighed.

“I'm sorry pet. This is going to take some getting used to. I am sad he's gone but I can't just erase a lifetime of tainted memories.”

‘ _Neither can I_ ,’ Arthur wanted to say. They lay in silence, not quite comfortable but neither one willing to pull away and be the one to break the contact that they both so desperately needed. The contact that they had shared since they were six and seven, huddled on Arthur's bed, their first night in a strange new house that didn't feel like home, and on Morgana's when they were thirteen and fourteen and Morgana's first boyfriend had dumped her and reduced her to tears. Uther had never been an affectionate man, but what he neglected to give his children, they gave to each other. Morgana had always been there for him, and had long ago made the executive decision not to let Arthur grow up in a world without tactile love. Despite their dry-clean-only business-wear, they could have been two young children again, clinging together for the comfort they couldn't find anywhere else. Arthur was painfully aware that the last time they had done this was the night after he had revealed his secret to their father. The night before Uther sent him to New York to head-up the new American office. Thoughts of Uther brought him back to the present with an unpleasant clench of his stomach.

“We should make some calls while it's still business hours,” he said, untangling himself from the blankets and sitting up.

“Always the consummate professional. Can't we just take a day to ourselves?”

“The matters are a little time-sensitive.”

Morgana paled slightly but nodded, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and reaching for her mobile.

“I'll deal with the funeral if you do the will,” she offered.

“Deal. He's still represented by Carleon, isn't he?”

“I think so. When did Uther ever change anything voluntarily?”

Arthur hummed in agreement while digging through his suitcase until he found his card index. Flipping through the plastic pages, he stopped at the ‘C’ section and dialed the number.

“Hello?”

He put on his best business voice before answering. “Hello, is this Mr. Carleon's office?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Arthur Pendragon. My father, Uther Pendragon, was represented by one of your solicitors. He passed away yesterday. I was wondering if I might be able to see a copy of his will sometime today.”

“Certainly sir, let me find someone to pull it up for you.”

Hold-music came from the speaker and Arthur held the handset away from his head until the slightly drunken melody was cut off by the return of the secretary.

“Thank you for holding sir. I have Mr. Lot on the line with us who can go over the specifics of your father's wishes with you.”

There was a click as the secretary hung up the phone and a low male voice took over the conversation.

“Hello Mr. Pendragon. I have your father's will in front of me and, I must say, it's fairly elaborate.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there are several fairly specific clauses in here; things about funeral arrangements, burial sites, his personal effects, donations to charity, the running of his business.”

“Running of his business? He can't dictate the order of his business from the grave, that's absurd! It will pass to the hands of the trustees and Board of Governors until they find an appropriate replacement.”

“Just skimming here sir, but apparently he meant for you to be handed the company,” he said hesitantly.

“Of course, of course he would do this,” Arthur groaned. Across the room Morgana looked over in concern. “Why couldn't he just write a will like a normal person? This is going to tie up everything in weeks’ worth of red tape.”

“I'm sorry, sir,” Lot replied weakly.

“No, no, it's not your fault,” he sighed. He lowered his phone and gestured across the room. “Morgana, hang up on whoever you've got and ring the front desk. It looks like we'll be extending our stay for a while.”

“Excuse me, it's not my place to intrude but, you could always stay at Pendragon Manor,” Lot suggested.

“Pardon?” Arthur raised the phone back to his ear.

“Pendragon Manor. It's one of the first things your father has listed in his will and it's a straight handover fifty-fifty to you and a Morgana Pendragon, your…sister from what Uther has listed.”

“I don't know if that's such a good idea,” he started.

“Arthur,” Morgana hissed at him from across the room, “let me talk to him.”

“But - ” Morgana crossed the room impatiently and grabbed the phone from his hand.

“Hello, yes this is Morgana Pendragon, how are you today?” Her business voice was the polar opposite of Arthur's; sweet and lilting in a way that made people _want_ to work for her. He fiddled with the ring on his index finger in a way that Morgana would call nervously and Arthur called calming while he waited for her to get off the phone.

“Well that's settled then.” She tossed the phone back at him. “We've got to head to the solicitor's office to pick up a copy of the will and then we're off to Wales.”

“I don't think we should stay in the house.”

She stopped pulling her coat on and scowled. “Why not?”

“I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about it.” He avoided her gaze.

She snorted and continued pulling on her coat. “What are you now, psychic?”

“No,” he snapped. “We just didn't leave the manor under ideal circumstances and father didn't want us going back there ever again. I don't think his wishes would have changed now that he's dead.”

“Well, why did he leave it to us then? Why not sell it or turn it into a children's home or a hospital?”

He opened his mouth but couldn't think of a response so he shut it again and frowned.

“Arthur look, I know it's hard, and despite how it looks I'm not exactly eager to go traipsing back to our childhood home either. But from what I heard, Uther left us one hell of a mess to sort out and that's going to take a bit longer than we can afford if we stay here. There's staying a week and pretending to be classy grown-ups and then there's just pissing away money.”

“We are classy grown-ups,” Arthur muttered.

Morgana rolled her eyes at him but couldn't suppress her smile. “We've got this place for the night. Why don't we grab the will, see what arrangements we can knock out today, and then eat Chinese food in bed.”

“Fine. But at the first sign of trouble we come back to London and sort things out here. Maybe we can find a short-term lease or something.”

“Ooh, maybe even a flat-share. We could have housemates and everything,” Morgana bit her lip with false glee.

“Har har,” Arthur tried not to rise to her taunting. “Let's get this over with then. The time zones have gotten to me and I don't know if I've eaten in the last twenty-four hours.”

***

The first part of their trip went surprisingly well. They collected the will and were able to sort out the arrangements for Uther's body without much of a fuss since the funeral home were sympathetic to their needs. After ingesting a truly heroic amount of stir fry and chicken, the two of them passed out in Arthur's room, _Sleepless in Seattle_ providing low-level ambient noise.

Arthur woke up the next morning to Morgana's deep chuckle, the one Arthur said made her sound like a man but secretly enjoyed hearing as it meant she found something really funny.

“Sorry, sorry,” she tried to catch her breath but just ended up laughing harder.

Arthur opened one eye and looked at her laptop to see what had disrupted his sleep and saw an image for which he was in no way prepared. He blinked twice to make sure he isn't imaging it but it didn't go away.

“Why is there fire coming out of her ass?”

Morgana's response is to laugh even harder as she doubled over. “It's Fanny Flambeaux, she's part of the Smokin' Pussies Gang,” she wheezed as if that explained everything.

It didn't. But rather than pressing the issue, Arthur opted for rolling over and readjusting to a more comfortable position, away from the oddities of the internet.

“Where do you even find this stuff?” he yawns.

“Tumblr.” She pulled out her earbuds and shut the lid of her laptop. “I started an official one for my brand but I have a secret side blog for all the terrible crap I love.”

“You're an odd duck Morgana.”

“True. But it's a great way to troll my fans.” She bounced out of bed in an annoyingly chipper fashion and stood with her back to him, holding up two dresses for evaluation. “Now get up, today is the big move.”

“Technically flying across the Atlantic was further for me.”

“Technically I don't care, get up and either shower or get dressed. I want to be out of the city before ten.”

Arthur groaned and pulled a pillow down over his head. “Why the big hurry? Once we get there it's back to the grindstone, picking through legal proceedings.”

“I called the estate agent this morning and someone is meeting us at four.”

“Someone? Isn't it still Gaius?”

“I'm not sure. It's still his name in the will but the guy I spoke to on the phone sounded a good fifty years younger. Perhaps Gaius finally took on an employee. We'll find out soon enough though. He sounded very attractive over the phone. Maybe one of us will get lucky.”

That got him out of bed. “Morgana, I swear to god if you hit on the estate agent and make this whole process more difficult than necessary I will take the scissors to your entire wardrobe.” He stomped irritably to the shower and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Is this you calling dibs then?” she laughed. He pretended not to hear her.

In the end Morgana got her wish, as per the norm, and their cab reached the city limits at precisely eleven o'clock. The change from city to country was a bit of culture shock that Arthur wasn't expecting. He had all but grown up in London and had spent the last three years living in New York. He had thought the uni years at Cambridge to be rural, but the picturesque views accorded by Cambridgeshire were nothing compared the vast hills of green now surrounding them. The sun was out in full force and danced on the top branches of the foliage. Trees with just a hint of orange and gold rose up to meet them as they drove further into the country and Arthur felt like he could breathe more freely just by looking at them. Logically he knew he was still breathing the recycled air in the cab but something about the hills and the very earth itself seemed to call to him, deep down in his bones.

“Are you alright?” Morgana snapped him out of his reverie.

“Hmm?” He turned to see Morgana looking at him with an odd expression.

“You look totally blissed out, like you were a million miles away.”

“Oh, just thinking.”

Confusion melted into a look of sad understanding and she squeezed his hand briefly before turning back to her phone.

‘ _No, it's not that. Father didn't even cross my mind. I was just really happy for the first time in, well, years,_ ’ he wanted to say but he didn't know how to voice his strange feeling of nostalgia and peace. He turned to look out the window once more as the car crested the last hill, the sun on the trees behind him twinkling, almost like it was winking at him.

‘ _Where did that come from? Sunlight can't wink._ ’ He gave himself a quick shake, disguising it as a cough but Morgana ignored him.

Suddenly, the driver pressed on the brake and turned the wheel, bringing the car to a stop in front of a large set of iron gates. He lowered the window and pressed the intercom button. Arthur's stomach gave a nervous leap as a dawning sense of finality crept over him.

“I've got an Arthur and Morgana Pendragon here for you.”

The speaker buzzed to life and there was the sound of crockery breaking accompanied by a reproachful ‘ow’ before a man's voice spoke.

“Yes, yes, um, how does this button system work. Shit, I'm not used to opening the part for cars, um.” There was some beeping and more swear words but eventually the gates shuddered and started to separate. Arthur's stomach fluttered again.

“Welcome home baby brother,” said Morgana. Arthur looked sideways at her and was satisfied to see that she looked similarly nervous, smoothing down her skirt and fiddling with her hair, as if she needed to make a good impression on the house. The driver started the approach down the long driveway and Arthur got his first glimpse of the home he had all but forgotten.

Pendragon Manor was an obscenely large property. Arthur had always known they were affluent and once he started working for Pendragon Corp., he had seen the statistical figures showing just how affluent they were. But nothing compared to seeing the mansion splayed out in front of them. Designed in the twelfth century, Pendragon Manor was one long façade of limestone brick that ran almost the length of a football pitch. What was truly impressive were the parts of the house that weren't quite in view yet; the rest of the manor, branching off into an ‘H’ shape and more than doubling the size of the building and the immaculately trimmed gardens more than double the size of the manor. At least Arthur hoped they were still immaculately trimmed.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the giant oak doors. They had just finished pulling the last of the suitcases out of the boot when the doors flew apart and a young man came flying through them.

“So sorry I'm late,” said the man, doubling over, trying to catch his breath, “I wanted to be here to greet you but you have a bloody huge house. I just ran all the way here from the south quad.”

“My god, that's a right trek. We weren't even allowed going as far as the south quad when we were little, were we Arthur?”

“No, no we weren't.”

At the sound of his voice, the man looked up and Arthur felt the bottom of his stomach drop. He was astonishingly beautiful; all angles and fine lines with eyes that sparkled even in the shade of the house. Arthur tried very hard not to appear affected but he was painfully aware that he was actively salivating at the man's appearance. In the past Arthur hadn't thought he was one to have a type, but boy was this ever it. Dark hair with just the hint of a curl where it fell into his eyes and two little wisps on each side that only served to draw more attention to the sharp definition of his cheekbones. He was long and lean in a button-down shirt and trousers but arms that suggested that he was slightly more muscled than his clothes revealed.

The man smiled at him and Arthur snapped back to reality. He was immediately ashamed of his thoughts. He wasn't here to find a hook-up or a boyfriend or whatever other possibilities his mind wanted him to explore. He was here to deal with his father's estate, not to gawk like a teenager. The man raised an eyebrow slightly, as if evaluating him and Arthur felt irritation sweep over him. How dare this man be so pretty, distracting him from the purpose of his visit? How dare he look at him that way? Arthur knew he was being irrational but it was easier to get mad at this nameless stranger than to be mad at himself. If there was one thing Arthur was good at it was deflection to the point of repression.

“That's the benefit of being a grown-up then - you get to do whatever you want.” The man turned to face Morgana and stuck out his hand like he hadn't just rattled Arthur to the core. “I'm Merlin by the way, Merlin Emrys. I took over for my uncle Gaius a few years ago.” Damn, not nameless anymore, how unfortunate.

“Morgana Pendragon,” she replied. Something unpleasant clenched in Arthur when they held each other's hands longer than strictly necessary and Merlin broke away with a slight blush.

“Arthur,” he interjected, “also a Pendragon. ” He turned to the driver. “Please put our bags in the foyer and then you're free to go.” The cabbie rolled his eyes and muttered something about posh gits but complied. Arthur turned on his heel back to face the others. “So Merlin, aren't you going to give us a tour of the place?”

“A tour?” Merlin hesitated. “Didn't you used to live here?”

“Yes, but that's beside the point. I presume you've cleaned it since then? ”

“Well obviously.” Merlin smiled hesitantly.

“Good. Our first order of business is seeing that the manor was kept in a state acceptable to our standards.”

Arthur watched Merlin's smile diminish and felt a little sick. He knew Morgana was glaring daggers into the side of his head but he fixed his gaze on Merlin, testing his mettle.

“If you're insinuating that we've wrecked the place in your absence I'd like you to reconsider your words. You don't know me so you can think whatever you want - even if it is insulting - but Gaius looked after the estate for fifteen years. By himself. You know what type of man he is and I won't stand for anyone insulting him.”

“No - of course not.” Arthur tried to backtrack but could find no way out of the situation and keep face. “I apologise Merlin, that was…not my intention. Please forgive me.” The words came out clenched and strained. Morgana looked at him like he'd grown a second head but Merlin merely looked at him, considering, before shrugging and giving him a quick nod.

“It would still be good to see the estate again though,” Arthur interjected before Merlin could say anything that might further endear him. “Just to get reacquainted with it. It's been twenty years and even then there were places that were off limits to us as children. Could you show us around?”

Merlin appeared to be debating with himself for a moment before turning abruptly and facing the door.

“Alright, let's go inside then,” his voice rose in volume as he spoke, “on a tour. Of the entire manor. And gardens.” He all but shouted the last bit as he pushed the door open for them. He turned on the spot and gave them a slightly manic smile. “Follow me then.”

Arthur started up the steps but Morgana caught his arm and held him back.

“What the hell was that then?”

“What was what?” he feigned innocence.

“That display of idiocy! I haven't seen you that rude to anyone in years. I thought I'd beaten that out of you!”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“That stupid macho bully act you just pulled on Merlin! I haven't seen you act that stupid since your crush on - ” she stopped, her eyes going wide. “Arthur, please tell me - ”

“No,” he interrupted. “It's nothing like that. But we're landowners now Morgana, we're expected to act in a certain way.”

“That's bullshit and you know it,” she snapped. “If you want to be an asshole from now on go right ahead but leave Merlin out of it. Gaius was sweet to us when we were young and I refuse to repay his kindness by having you act a total pillock to his nephew!”

Merlin stuck his head out the door. “Are you two coming or not?”

Morgana shot Arthur one more glare before she marched up the stairs, took hold of Merlin's arm and gave him one of her most brilliant smiles. Arthur tried very hard not to run up the steps after her and forcibly pry them apart. But it was much easier to have Morgana be angry at him than to confront the truth.

“Sorry for the delay, we're ready now, aren't we Arthur?”

Arthur growled in response and stomped up the stairs, coming to a halt on Merlin's other side. Merlin looked slightly nervous to be standing between the two of them but turned and led the way into the foyer.

 Arthur was hit with a sudden wave of familiarity. It was exactly like he remembered it but it felt surreal to be standing there. Like remembering a picture of the place rather than actual spatial memories.

Merlin cleared his throat. “As per your father's wishes, everything remains as you left it. We've changed the linens over the years, and we give everything a good cleaning every couple of months but overall it's untouched.”

Arthur glanced up at the large dome ceiling as they made their way towards a corridor. The glass sparkled immaculately and Arthur felt even more ashamed at his earlier outburst. Not that he really thought Merlin would have let the house fall into disrepair anyways. There was something about him, something that made Arthur want to get to know him, beyond him being unfairly beautiful. He was interrupted in his attempt to try to puzzle Merlin out by the sight of a large framed portrait hanging on the first floor landing of the large central staircase.

It was a portrait of a young woman, roughly around his age. Unlike the other portraits that adorned the walls, this one had a rather cheeky quality to it. The subject was wearing a torn Union Jack t-shirt and had pink streaks in her blonde hair. She also wore a choker necklace and if Arthur had to choose one word to describe her overall appearance he would have chosen ‘punk’, something he couldn't say about the rest of the stuffy classical portraits in the manor. Her expression didn't look particularly rebellious. Her smile was sweet though there was something about the sparkle in her eyes that promised mischief.

“Arthur? What are you doing?” Merlin's voice brought Arthur back to reality and he found himself with his foot raised in mid-air, halfway up the steps.

“That painting. It wasn't here before,” he said, still in a daze.

“What? Oh em, no. Your father bought it at an auction several years ago and had us hang it. There are a couple of other new pieces I can show you a little further on if you follow me.”

Arthur tuned him out and continued walking up the stairs. “Who is she?”

“Em, I'm not sure. Some random person, you know how artists work, they'll paint anyone who has the money. If you want to see someone you'll recognize follow me to the - ”

“She looks familiar. It's so lifelike,” Arthur stretched out his hand to brush the canvas and Merlin all but sprinted up the stairs and grabbed his arm before he could make contact.

“Can't let you do that I'm afraid. Terribly bad for the retail value, skin oil and all.”

Arthur blinked slowly and came back to himself. ‘ _Why did I want to touch it so badly?_ ’

“Of course, you're absolutely right Merlin,” he moved his arm to clasp Merlin on the shoulder. “This was a test and you passed it brilliantly. My father would come back from the dead if I started damaging his assets on day one.” He laughed in what he hoped was a normal sounding way and Merlin followed suit, if in an obviously forced way.

‘ _Still not entirely forgiven for being a dick then_ ,’ Arthur thought glumly. ‘ _Oh well, it's better this way_.’

“Let's keep going then shall we?” Merlin waited until Arthur was halfway down the stairs before starting the descent himself, like he didn't want to be any closer to Arthur than absolutely necessary.

“Right, so through this corridor is the main dining hall, the formal dining hall, the semi-formal dining hall, the semi-casual dining hall, the casual dining hall, and the dining room.”

“That all seems a tad unnecessary,” said Arthur.

“What, too ostentatious for you? I thought you were embracing our new status as douche bags?” Morgana asked him coldly.

“I am but really, six dining halls?” Arthur scoffed.

“And that's not even including the ballrooms,” Merlin winked at him.

“Alright, can you show us the least horribly posh place to eat in this house?” asked Arthur.

“Your wish is my command,” Merlin pushed open a door and they crossed one of the many dining rooms and through an adjoining doorway.

“So there's an easy trick to navigating this house: if you get lost, head into the servant's passageway. All routes lead to the kitchen and from there you can find your way out.”

“Did you ever get lost?” asked Morgana.

“Oh, all the time. Last week I took a passage I thought was a shortcut to the south building and I ended up in the middle of the hedge maze. Don't ask how I did that. It's a little like Hogwarts sometimes; I swear the staircases move on you.”

Morgana laughed with him but Arthur let out a derisive little tut.

Merlin stopped walking and turned to face him. “What's wrong Arthur, you don't believe in magic?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

That phrase made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and made Arthur feel very small and very sad for no reason he could identify. “No, no I don't. Not for some time now.” His voice was mortifyingly soft and he pursed his lips and shuffled his feet awkwardly. He glanced up and caught sight of Merlin's expression, as if Arthur had just told him the saddest thing in the world. Arthur felt stupidly guilty for upsetting Merlin so badly and changed the topic.

“So are you trying to say this corridor is the best place to eat because I have to say, I might not have wanted grand dining room levels of class but eating in the servant's hallway seems a little bit homeless to me.”

Merlin's mouth fell open and closed a few times before he recovered. “No, obviously not, it's through here.” He set off again at such a rapid pace that Morgana had to have gotten a little bit of whiplash. They continued down the corridor until they reached a large kitchen.

“Technically we're below ground right now, but the windows were added in the nineteenth century. It's a bit dark but still, much more comfortable than anything you've got up there.”

Arthur had to concede that he was right. Despite the low light, the kitchen had a sort of lived-in feel. The appliances weren't state of the art but they were clean and looked well used. There were little accents about the place that set it apart from all the pomp upstairs: the hen and chickens clock hanging above the door, the ribbon mural painted on the backsplash, the handmade placemats set around the small round table.

“It's wonderful,” breathed Morgana.

Merlin turned and caught Arthur's eye. “Gaius said your mum used to spend a lot of time down here. Did all the decorating herself.”

Arthur's breath caught in his throat and water came to his eyes, unbidden. ‘ _Stupid. Stupid. You're twenty-six; she's been dead for the majority of your life. You never even knew her_.’

He looked around to distract himself and jumped at the sound of something hitting the floor behind him. They all turned to look and found a box of Kleenex lying face down on the floor.

“That's odd,” Morgana frowned. “Where did that come from?”

Merlin let out a distinctly nervous laugh as he ducked behind Arthur to retrieve the box. “It's an old house it, em, settles sometimes. You know, rapid temperature changes and all that.”

“Enough to knock a box of tissues of the shelf?” Arthur asked skeptically.

“What can I say? This house has character,” Merlin beamed at him.

“It's a house Merlin, it can't have a personality.”

Merlin just kept smiling so all Arthur could do was huff.

“Alright, I think we've established that this is a nice room. Can we please continue the tour now?”

Merlin turned to Morgana. “Is he always this bossy?”

“Oh always.”

“I was afraid you'd say that,” Merlin sighed. “Right, come with me.”

He led them to a different passage which led through a series of sitting rooms. One of the smaller ones had a television on showing a rerun of Top Gear.

Arthur huffed and crossed the room. “We may have a lot of money, but that's no reason to run up the energy bill _Mer_ lin.”

“Right, sorry. I must have left it on when I went out to greet you.”

He looked oddly twitchy and Arthur felt a little guilty. ‘ _I really need to work on my conviction around him. I can't keep going to pieces every time he frowns. Even if he does look like a wounded puppy_.’

“Well, no real harm done. Just don't make this into a habit.” He looked down at the table and frowned. “Where's the remote? It was just here.”

“Maybe it fell on the floor,” Merlin suggested weakly.

“No, it was definitely here, I just saw it.” Arthur knelt down and looked under the chair. “How strange.”

“Who cares about the remote, just shut it off manually,” sighed Morgana.

Arthur clambered to his feet, crossed to the set and pressed his thumb to the power button but nothing happened. He hit the button several times in succession but Jeremy Clarkson's face stayed resolutely on the screen.

“Oh, I think that button's broken,” commented Merlin.

“You think so?” asked Arthur sarcastically. He walked around to the back of the television and pulled the plug out of the wall. “Dispose of this TV. No reason to keep broken things.”

Merlin pulled a face. “I'm not your servant.”

“No, but you are the head of the estate. I don't care how it happens, call someone, carry it on your back, I don't care, just get it done.”

“Your wish is my command sire,” Merlin grumbled. Arthur could feel Morgana glaring daggers into the side of his head but he ignored it and headed for the door. He realised belatedly how stupid it was to be in the lead as he didn't know the layout of the manor, but he was a Pendragon goddamn it, when they felt unsure of themselves the only solution was to overcompensate. Arthur marched them down the hall - and out into the grounds.

“Done seeing the house?” Merlin asked dryly.

“I fancied a bit of air,” Arthur lied. He stretched and put on a show of admiring the shrubbery while Merlin and Morgana exchanged looks and muttered conversation behind him. He was just bending down to sniff at a rose bush when he saw it; a tiny person curled up in one of the petals. He stopped, horrified, as the creature sighed and rolled over, curling the petal over itself like a blanket. It's tiny gossamer wings sparkled in the sun and Arthur's brain short-circuited.

‘ _No, not here, not now_.’ Arthur backed away from the flower slowly.

“Arthur, are you alright?” Merlin's arm came up to grip his shoulder and Arthur staggered into the touch.

“Sorry, I just - jetlag, you know?” he feigned a yawn though his heart was still racing. “I think it just caught up with me all at once.”

Merlin's eyes were full of concern and even Morgana looked troubled.

“Maybe we should leave the tour here for today and let you get some sleep,” she suggested.

“Yeah, that'd be sure,” Arthur babbled. “I'll just go and lie down, you two have fun.” He made an attempt to move but found his feet cemented firmly to the ground.

“Arthur, do you want me to show you to a room?” asked Merlin.

“I'll be fine, I'm sure I can find an acceptable one on my own. There can't be that many to choose from.”

“Ah.”

“Come on,” Merlin turned him around and marched him towards the house. He stumbled a little when he reached the threshold and Merlin tried to duck under his arm to support him.

“I'm fine Merlin,” Arthur put a hand on his chest and pushed. Despite being rattled at seeing the…that thing, he was pleased some part of his brain still registered how firm Merlin's chest felt.

“Suit yourself,” Merlin shrugged. “What kind of bedroom do you want?”

Arthur hesitated before answering. “Can I see my old one? Not to sleep in, just to…see.” He swallowed and held his breath.

Merlin seemed to understand what he was saying, led him upstairs and gave him a small smile before pushing open a door on the third floor landing and ushering Arthur inside.

“We've replaced the sheets obviously, but everything else should be the same. I even bought a red set to match the old ones.”

Arthur surveyed the room cautiously, as if it would crumble away if he moved too suddenly. But it was all still there. His legos, his plastic castle set, his books, his dragon nightlight. Every little detail brought back a host of long forgotten memories.

“Thank you Merlin, it's perfect.” He hung onto one of the four posts of his bed and let the memories wash over him. He turned to find Merlin looking at him far too softly. He coughed and gave a quick nod. “That will be all. I expect breakfast at seven a.m. sharp.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Still not your servant,” he said as he left the room. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight.”

He had no idea when Merlin had found the time to bring his suitcases up but he greatly appreciated it. He tossed it onto the foot of the bed and clicked the latches. Maybe he had gotten the driver to do it earlier, or maybe there were other employees working on the property. Or maybe they had found their own way up by magic.

It wasn't a pleasant thought and he stopped digging through his suitcase and pushed it away, as if it was tainted. He gave himself a shake and went back to hunting for pajamas. He was being stupid; there was obviously some normal, non-magical solution as to how his suitcases got upstairs. To the room he hadn't known he was staying in until just now.

He forced himself to grab a pair of pajamas and retreated to the safety of the bed. Changing quickly, he forwent his usual pre-bed practices, chucking his soiled clothes in the corner. He fished around in his bathroom bag until he found his bottle of melatonin. He stuffed two in his mouth, yanked the curtains closed, and all but dove under the covers.

He tried to focus on the calming exercises the company psychologist had taught them at a synergy meeting, but his mind wandered back to the thing in the garden. The thing he had tried furiously to ignore for years that kept finding him; it and others like it. The things that can’t exist. He could feel the vitamin slowly pulling him under and tried to focus on the darkness. He thought he felt a hand brush across his forehead and smooth his hair back just before he drifted off. He imagined it was Merlin and his last conscious thought was how nice it was that his brain was creating some pleasant delusions even as he was going crazy.

*** 

Arthur woke the next morning feeling blissfully serene. He couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up naturally without his alarm yelling at him and it took him a few moments to piece together why it wasn't going off now.

“Morning Arthur.”

Arthur shot upright. “Merlin? Why are you in my room?”

“Breakfast is ready.” He shrugged.

Arthur pulled the covers up around himself, feeling oddly self-conscious. “Haven't you heard of knocking?”

Merlin snorted. “I doubt you would have heard me with all the snoring going on.”

“I do not snore!” said Arthur indignantly.

“Whatever lets you sleep at night.” Merlin laughed. “Get it? Because you do snore so it's a lie but it's also an expression and it fits the conversation in two ways?” Arthur glared at him.

“Anyway,” Merlin’s smile faded, “there's breakfast in the kitchen when Your Highness wishes to get out of bed.”

Arthur looked at him skeptically. “You actually made breakfast?”

“I had to make my own and it seemed logical to make extra for the two of you,” Merlin's ears turned slightly pink in a way Arthur found entirely too adorable. “Besides, it's been a rough couple of days for you and you seemed really shaken up yesterday. It's the least I could do.”

It took Arthur a moment to realise what Merlin was talking about. ‘ _He didn't see the thing in the garden, why would he think I had a rough couple of da - Oh right, because my father died_.’ He felt sick with himself forgetting again and held his head in his hands, massaging his temples.

“Oh hell Arthur, I'm sorry.” Merlin crossed the room and rested a hand on Arthur's bare shoulder. “Just forget this conversation ever happened. I've just come into the room and told you I made breakfast because I figured you were too much of an entitled prat to know how to make it yourself.”

Arthur looked up at him. “This is you cheering me up?”

“Yes.”

“Your bedside manner really leaves something to be desired.”

“Shut up,” Merlin shoved his shoulder gently. He pulled a fresh shirt out of the suitcase and chucked it at Arthur's head. “Put on some clothes and come downstairs, Morgana's been up since half seven.” He started for the door.

“You two have been having a natter I take it,” Arthur grumbled, pulling the shirt on over his head.

“Oh yes, she's been telling me some great stories from when the two of you were little. I particularly like the dress-up stories.”

Arthur nearly fell out of bed. “That was one time and it was for a dare!”

Merlin stuck his head back in the room and smiled at him wickedly. “Sure it was. I'm certain you looked very fetching in it, too. Red is definitely your colour.” He left Arthur feeling equal parts excited and mortified.

By the time Arthur had gotten himself sorted and downstairs, Morgana and Merlin had busily crunched their way through a mountain of toast, baked beans, eggs, and bacon. Morgana must have been quite taken with Merlin as she was still in her pajamas and hadn't even put her contact lenses in yet. Normally Morgana dressed to the nines around people until she knew they weren't going to betray her secret that she woke up looking like a normal person. This did not bode well. Not if Arthur had any hope in hell in getting over his crush. Jealousy did bad things to his temper.

Merlin loaded up a plate of the remnants and pushed it towards him. Arthur dug in eagerly. He took a bite, then made a sound that was dangerously close to a moan.

“I forgot what proper breakfast tastes like,” he said and crammed in a mouthful of beans on toast.

“Why? What do Americans eat for breakfast?” Morgana yawned into her coffee.

“Cereal mostly. Or pop tarts. But rarely beans, and their idea of bacon is the streaky kind.”

“That sounds like my kind of hell,” said Merlin, who seemed to be trying to ram everything into some kind of monster sandwich. “I don't think I could stand to live in a place without proper breakfast. How on earth are you supposed to get a good start to the day if you're starving?”

“I didn't really have much of a choice,” Arthur shrugged. “My father needed someone he could rely on to start the New York branch.”

“How long were you over there?” asked Merlin.

“Three years,” he held out his mug and Merlin filled it for him obligingly.

“Wait, your father sent a twenty-three year old to America by himself to _start up a company_?” Merlin asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Arthur frowned. “What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing just…Jesus that's a lot of pressure to put on your kid.” Merlin shook his head.

“Pendragons learn responsibility at a very young age,” Morgana interjected. “Uther had us start interning with him in the summers when we were fourteen. I got out of it quickly enough, and thank god for that, but Arthur here has been unofficially working for the company for over ten years.” She raised her mug in a half salute to him.

“So has this been the only job you've ever had?”

“Well, I've worked in various departments in the company but yes, the Pendragon Corporation is the only credit I have on my CV. And the only one I'll ever need,” he added hastily. He didn't know why, but he felt somehow embarrassed telling all this to Merlin, like it was something to be ashamed of.

Somehow Merlin must have picked up on what he was thinking because his expression softened a little before he replied. “I was just raised differently I guess. I can't fathom always knowing what you wanted to do and spending all of your teen years working towards it. It's just a little intense.”

“But you're working in the family business too, aren't you? How is that any different than my situation?” asked Arthur.

“Yeah, but I only started this job recently, and only as a special favour to Gaius. I didn't even know what it was he did until I was twenty.”

Arthur frowned. “How did you not know what your uncle's job was?”

“Oh, Gaius was a very private person. He probably didn’t want to admit he was getting on in years and needed help. Anyway, what's the plan for today? Shall we continue the tour or do you two have business to take care of.”

“I should phone Lots' office and see if they've made any headway with the Will.” Arthur groaned.

“The bits about the burial arrangement and the Pendragon Corporation yes, everything else, I vote we wait until at least after the funeral to deal with,” said Morgana.

“Morgana, it's not just going to go away if we ignore it.”

“No, but there's no point in burning ourselves out trying to solve everything immediately.” She looked at him over the rims of her glasses and Arthur already knew he wasn't going to win this fight.

“Fine, fine,” Arthur sighed.

“Excellent.” Morgana tightened the elastic around her ponytail and swung off the barstool. “I'm going to take one of the cars into town and see what there is to do around here.”

“Wait, since when do _you_ drive?” asked Arthur incredulously.

“Since 2012 when Versace gifted me a Ferrari as a thank you present for the collaboration we did.” Morgana smirked at him.

“Wow Arthur, maybe you should have gotten out of the family business too,” Merlin ducked as Arthur took a swipe at him. “If you want Morgana, some of my friends are meeting up at the Rose and Crown tonight for dinner and drinks. I'll text you the details.”

“Sorted.” Morgana blew them both kisses and left the kitchen, leaving Arthur to wonder when Merlin and Morgana had swapped phone numbers and when he had gotten so out of touch with his sister.

“So now that you've been forbidden from doing work, what do you want to do with the rest of our day?” Arthur raised an eyebrow at him and Merlin back-peddled. “Not that we have to spend it together. I have plenty to do without babysitting you if you want to spend some time alone.”

“Just for that I'm going to make you spend the whole day with me,” said Arthur imperiously. ‘ _My god, he's giving you an out, what are you doing?_ ’

“Oh good,” Merlin beamed at him. “I have something I wanted to show you anyway. I'll do the dishes, you go deal with whatever legal business you have to take care of and we'll meet in the foyer at ten?”

“Sure,” said Arthur weakly. He tried very hard not to stare at the sharp definition of Merlin's cheekbones and began whistling while clearing the plates away. It was a battle lost from the start so he decided the best course of action was a strategic retreat to one of the many dens they had passed by the day before. He spent the next two hours arguing back and forth with the team of solicitors on his father's payroll and the branch manager of Pendragon Corp before he realised he was late for his…whatever it was with Merlin, and hung up on them all.

“Sorry I'm late, I - ” he stopped short when he saw Merlin waiting for him with a basket at his feet. “What the hell is that?”

“Lunch?” replied Merlin slowly. “We might be out for a while and I have a feeling you get whiney when hungry.”

“I do not whine _Merlin_.”

Merlin just smiled at him and picked up the basket. “Come on.”

Arthur's traitorous heart beat out a rhythm of ‘da-date, da-date, da-date, da-date’ and he cast around for an excuse that would stop him from being in Merlin's audible range until his stupid teenage hormones slowed down. “Just let me grab a jumper, I didn't think we'd be going outside.” He started up the main staircase but froze on the first landing.

“Merlin, this picture is different.”

“What?”

“The picture. The portrait. The one I asked you about yesterday, it's different.”

“No it's not.”

“No really, come and see,” Arthur leaned forward to get a better look.

“I don't need to, it's a painting Arthur, it can't change,” Merlin scoffed.

“I swear it's different. It's like she's changed angles. Yesterday she was sitting and facing the artist head-on, today she's angled slightly off to the side.” He leant from side to side as if that would somehow change the perspective of the painting.

“Arthur, you were extremely jetlagged yesterday, you probably just didn't see it clearly the first time. Now grab your jumper and let’s go, this basket is heavy.”

Arthur blushed involuntarily and sprinted the rest of the way to his room. ‘ _Well that was stupid. Way to go Arthur, try to look like more of a crazy in front of him_.’ Because that was the only reasonable explanation for why the painting looked different; it was just part of his building psychosis. He stopped running when he got back to the main staircase and forced himself to walk by the painting calmly. He tried very hard to not react when he saw the woman was facing forward again.

Merlin ushered him out the front door toward the north gardens. “I thought it might be good to get away from the house for a little bit. It will take us a week to explore it all properly and I know how it is when your life changes dramatically. It’s way too easy to just lock yourself away, and pretend the rest of the world isn't still happening around you.”

“I'm surprised at you Merlin, that was almost wise.”

“Har har,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I figure what you need is the exact opposite of the posh manor lifestyle.” He waited for Arthur to catch his meaning.

“Oh, no. Please tell me we are not going in _there_ ,” Arthur moaned.

“Oh, yes.” Merlin's smile reached truly terrifying proportions. “We are going to spend the entire afternoon in the forest, sitting on logs and getting mud on our boots.”

“What could I have possibly done in my life to deserve this kind of punishment?” Arthur rolled his eyes but followed Merlin into the forest.

“Who says it's anything you did in this life?”

“Unless you have evidence to the contrary, I'm fairly certain we only get one life.”

“You have your beliefs, I have mine,” Merlin replied lightly.

“Great, now I have a friend who's not only a tree-hugging nature-lover but who believes in all that New Age nonsense,” Arthur grumbled.

“We're friends now? I'm so touched. All this time I thought I was just your servant.”

“Ah-ha, so you admit it! You are my servant. Now you have to do what I say.”

“What are you, five? And who says kings can't be friends with their servants?”

“I like that you elevated me to king immediately, it shows good judgement. And everyone knows kings can't be friends with their servants. It's against the rules.”

“Well maybe we should change the rules then,” Merlin shot him a strange glance over his shoulder and stopped walking. “We're here, so to speak.”

Arthur hadn't noticed where they were going during their bantering but he stopped and took a proper look around. Merlin had led them to a clearing of sorts with seating that had obviously been knocked together with whatever was readily available. There was a series of logs and small boulders pushed together to make benches around a make-shift fire pit where a spit stood ready for roasting. Nature was clearly winning the battle however, as ferns and other low lying plants crept into the little circle, draping themselves almost artfully across the logs. The rest of the forest was very still around them, the damp air cool on Arthur's skin. The foliage was so thick at the canopy level that almost all of the midday sun was blocked out, only letting scattered beams come through. Even Arthur, who was a city boy through and through, couldn't resist the beauty of the place.

“Well Merlin, you might have hit on something with this whole nature lark.” He moved passed him to sit on one of the logs.

“I thought you might like it. Even the snobbiest of snobs need a break sometimes.” Merlin plunked himself down on the log across from Arthur. “Shall I light a fire? It's almost always perpetually damp in here and you feel cold soon enough.”

“How are you going to start a fire out of this?” Arthur picked up a sodden twig and twisted it between his finger and thumb.

Merlin grinned at him. “Fires are my specialty. You leave it to me and go gather some more fuel.”

“I thought I was the king in this relationship,” said Arthur, but he clambered to his feet again.

“Blimey, we're in a relationship already. Shall I let the priest know we'll be needing his services by the end of the week?” Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe I'm just a bossy servant.”

“You're a servant whose going to get a cuffing soon,” Arthur gave him a little shove as he walked by.

“Cuffs, eh? Now we're getting somewhere.”

“Shut up and start your fire Merlin,” but Arthur couldn't keep the grin off his face. It just felt so natural to bicker like this with Merlin. Like they'd been doing it for years instead of a matter of hours. It struck him then that he really didn't know anything about Merlin, other than the fact that he was Gaius' nephew and had a sharp sense of humour. By the time he returned to the circle, determined to get to know Merlin better, he found the fire happily devouring the twigs Merlin was feeding it.

“You weren't joking, you really are good with fires,” said Arthur, impressed.

“Just one of my many talents.”

“Multiple talents? Don't get cocky now.” Merlin chucked a dirt clod at his head which Arthur easily evaded. “Go on then, impress me.”

“Oh you know, just standard things.” He paused and looked uncertain for a moment before continuing. “It's actually a little frustrating. I'm pretty good at a lot of different things but I don't have any one thing that I'm amazing at, you know? Like I can play the guitar but I'll never be good enough to be in a band, or I can juggle but never well enough to be a street performer. I'm one of those people who's doomed to the level of party tricks.”

“Don't forget your awesome fire starting skills,” Arthur joked.

“Oh right, like that's such a useful talent to have. It'll get me so many job offers in future,” Merlin's eyebrows drew closer together and Arthur felt an overwhelming need to cheer him up.

“It's a useful skill to have in this moment. And who cares if it won't lead you to a job? Sometimes it's good to be good at silly things.”

“Says you,” Merlin scoffed, “the man who knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life and started his career at fourteen.”

“I never said that's what I always wanted to do. It's just what I was expected to do,” Arthur shrugged.

Merlin frowned at him. “Are you saying you didn't want to work in the family business?”

Arthur rubbed at his forehead. “I don't know what I'm saying. That's part of my job: being the team leader, being inspiring, bringing out the good in other people when in reality I'm a huge hypocrite. It's not that I don't like my job, it's that I don't know if I don't like it. I've been doing it for so long that I never got the chance to explore any other possibilities. All of my talents were cultivated by my father so that I was prepared for this specific job. All my extracurricular and courses were things that would help me advance in my field. Hell, even my Christmas presents were tailored to help me in some way.” He paused, acutely aware of Merlin's eyes on him. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overshare like that. It's just that I've had all these thoughts building for years and it's been like a pressurized tank just waiting to burst and for some reason you are having to bear the brunt of it.”

“No it's fine, it's just a little unforeseen. I didn't exactly expect you'd be the type to talk about your feelings so easily.”

“Maybe I am,” Arthur shrugged. “I think the central point of all this is I just don't know. I've been living in my father's shadow for so long I just don't know what kind of person I'll be without him. Who knows, maybe I'll pick up a trowel and become a farmer now.”

“Arthur, I think I can say without a shadow of a doubt that you'd be a rubbish farmer.”

Arthur clasped a hand over his heart. “Thank you Merlin, I pour my heart and soul out to you about my decades of daddy issues, and you stomp all over the first independent dream I've had in years.”

“Just trying to help you narrow the career pathway.” They sat for a moment in companionable silence before Merlin broke it. “Are you thinking about quitting the company now that he's gone?”

“I don't know. It's not a new idea, I'd been thinking about coming home for the last year but I didn't want to feel like I'd failed him. Now that he's gone it feels like a copout if I just leave. Plus I have to sort out all of this wank in his Will first. The man wants to be cremated and then buried in a coffin with all his prized possessions. How mental is that?”

Merlin was silent for a moment before bursting out into laughter. “Is it bad to say I'm kind of happy I never met your dad? He sounds like an absolute nutter.”

“No, that is a perfectly valid statement. I think that's part of my problem really. I don't want to disrespect his memory and I did love him in our odd, stilted way. But I'm just not as sad as I thought I'd be. I really just feel a little empty. I didn't really know the man beyond our working relationship and I feel like I've missed out on something I never had.”

“I think it's okay to not feel sad sometimes. I mean, you'll probably have nights where you'll shed some tears for him, and you'll have days where you don't think about him at all. It's all about giving yourself permission to feel whatever it is you're feeling and not be ashamed by it. I can tell you're a good man underneath all that bluster, don't look at me like that it's true, and I'd hate to see you get eaten up by guilt over not feeling sad enough. It's just going to take time.”

Arthur swallowed but nodded. “It's this weird thing where now that he's gone it's like a fog has been lifted and I can see just how bizarre my childhood really was. Morgana was smart to get out when she did. Not that didn't cause its own set of problems but still.”

“Are you and Morgana close?”

“We were for a long time, but after she decided to go to Saint Martins' instead of Cambridge we had a bit of a falling out. I mean, and never tell her I admitted this, I was completely in the wrong, but I was fifteen and couldn't understand that she wasn't intentionally trying to hurt our father. We worked things out eventually but sometimes I feel like there's still a bit of the void we haven't crossed yet.”

He remembered his vow to learn more about Merlin and turned the question on him. “What about you then? Any brothers or sisters?”

“Naw, not by blood anyways. My best mate growing up, Will, felt like a brother though, and my mum practically raised him too. Both our dads walked out on us when we were young and Will's mum had a rough time coping. Will just sort of latched on to us and my mum never told him to go home.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's alright, my dad left before I was born so I never knew him, and it's hard to miss someone you never met. I have his books, though. He wrote under a different pen name for each novel so it's impossible to track him down now, but he's a really good writer. Does all kinds of crazy fantasy stuff.”

“Can I read your copies?”

Merlin gave him a look. “You like fantasy novels? Because I'm talking high fantasy Tolkienesque stuff.”

“Clearly you like them so they aren't shit. Besides, I might like fantasy novels. I might turn into a geek now and learn how to speak Elvish.”

Merlin laughed. “I would pay so much money to see you cosplay. You would clean up so hard at conventions.”

“I'm going to pretend I understood everything you just said.” Merlin laughed harder. “So, now that you're friends with someone who's extremely wealthy, do you want me to pay someone to track down your dad?”

“Thanks but I'm fine,” Merlin smiled at him. “It's nicer to pretend that he left because he was some kind of government spy who was called away on a secret mission than to face the reality that he was probably just a lowlife. But sometimes I go to book signings and wonder if the author is him. It's comforting in a weird kind of way.”

“Don’t ever apologise for things you love. If people can't understand then they aren't the sort of people you want in your life.”

“You're a very decisive person, aren't you?”

Arthur smiled at him. “It's one of my many talents. Alright then, one absent parent, one awesomely-loving mum, and a sort of adopted brother. What else do you have?”

“How do you know my mum is awesomely loving?”

“Because she raised your best friend without being asked. That automatically makes her an awesome person. What about Will, where does he live now?”

Merlin's smile faltered. “Will died a couple years ago, actually wow, six years now.” Merlin scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can't believe that much time has passed.”

“I'm so sorry Merlin,” said Arthur softly.

“No it's fine, I mean, it's not fine, but it's something I've grown to live with. He was drunk one night and walked out in traffic. The guy that hit him was drunk too and drove into a wall afterwards. Neither of them survived.”

“That's horrible.”

“It is, but at the same time it's not one person’s fault. Will shouldn't have let himself get that drunk alone and the driver shouldn't have been behind the wheel. The paramedics said it was over pretty quickly though. I'm just glad he wasn't in much pain.”

Arthur kicked at Merlin's boot gently. “Still, it rather puts my messed up childhood in the shade.”

“It's not a competition you dolt,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “We've both had our fair share of fucked up. The important thing is we're not letting it rule our lives. It's okay to be sad about it and take a moment for self-pity but sometimes you have to fight for yourself so you don't get stagnant. That's the whole reason I brought you out here today. And somehow you've tricked me into oversharing right along with you.” Merlin mock-glared at him.

“I'm truly impressed we covered so many topics sans alcohol. Should we make a dent in that picnic basket?”

“Yes, all this deep talk has me starving.” Merlin ducked down and started emptying the hamper. Arthur was about to help him when movement behind Merlin caught his eye. A grouping of tiny lights were fluttering a few metres back from their little circle.

‘ _Please god no,_ ’ thought Arthur. He forced himself to take a proper look and he could distinctly see the dozen or so little people hovering in midair. Some of them were watching him with curious expressions, others were staring at Merlin and whispering to each other.

‘ _It's just a hallucination. It's not real. As long as you know it's not real you'll be fine_ ,’ Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them to see almost all of the things looking at him. One of them even had the audacity to giggle. He forced himself up and off the log to help Merlin set out the contents of the hamper in front of them.

Merlin had certainly done a thorough job packing. There were leftover bits of roast for sandwiches and jars of marmite and jam. He'd also brought finger foods like cashews, olives, and dates. For drinks there were thermoses of tea and coffee, and also bottles of juice and water.

“This is quite a feast for two people,” Arthur commented as he pulled out a third pack of biscuits.

“I didn't know what you'd like so I brought a little of everything,” Merlin shrugged. He started making himself a sandwich and Arthur watched, part fascinated and part horrified as one of the things flew down and perched on Merlin's shoulder.

“So, alright,” Merlin put the top slice of bread on his sandwich. “If you could have any job in the world right now, what would you be?”

Arthur forced his gaze back to Merlin's face. “I don't know. Something where I could help people I think. I mean, my job right now isn't very meaningful, but I do what I can to help people perform and reach their quotas so they're never at risk for being fired. Our company has very high targets and my father was ruthless with cuts.”

“How noble of you,” Merlin took a bite out of his sandwich and held it up near his shoulder. The creature sat there scooted forward and took a tiny bite out of the corner. It squealed in delight at the taste and it's brethren behind it chattered excitedly. Arthur very calmly made his own sandwich as the horde of creatures descended on their picnic and tucked in.

“Same question for you. If you could drop everything right now, what would you be?”

“Honestly, I think I'd like to be a writer. And I'm not just saying that because of my dad. I've always liked storytelling and I think I'm half descent at it. I never grew up thinking ‘you know what I really want to be? An estate agent.’”

“Why don't you then?” asked Arthur, carefully reaching between two of the creatures for the olives.

“What? Drop everything? Write the next great novel and become our generation's J.K. Rowling?” He snorted but Arthur just raised an eyebrow at him. “Because life doesn’t work that way, that's why.”

“Why not? You've been very inspirational for me so far. Why not take some of that initiative and fix your own life?”

“It's just different okay? First of all, you didn't just drop everything either. I may have only known you a short while but I'll bet a hundred quid that you applied for some kind of sick leave and made sure you left someone in command at your office, yes?” Arthur nodded. “Second, this may not have been my dream job growing up but it doesn't mean I hate it. I'm not saying my life is perfect but it isn't horrible either. There are some things you have to sacrifice for the bigger picture, for your destiny to be fulfilled. Am I making any sense?”

“Yes. But you deserve to be happy,” Arthur frowned.

“My job is only one part of me Arthur, I'm really happy in other parts of my life. I've got great friends, I love living out in the countryside, and I get to travel a lot.”

Arthur's head shot up, and several of the creatures were blown backwards from the momentum. “What do you mean travel?”

“Well, yours isn't the only estate Gaius managed. I just use this one as my home base because it's close to where Mum lives. But normally I make the rounds once a month to check up on the other properties.”

“Oh,” replied Arthur.

“Oh what?” asked Merlin.

“Nothing, just oh.” Because Arthur couldn't tell him that the idea of Merlin leaving the manor for any lengthy period of time made his heart clench, since he'd only known Merlin for twenty-four hours and that reaction was just plain weird. The creatures closest to him chirped nervously and one reached out to stroke his hair. He stayed very still and tried to not react to the touch. He thought he saw Merlin's eyes dart to the spot where his hallucination was lingering, but it only lasted a second. Clearly Arthur's imagination was really getting the better of him.

“If it makes you feel any better, I just saw the other properties recently so I'll still be at the manor for a while, provided nothing goes wrong.”

Hope rose in Arthur's chest.

“I won't leave you to deal with all this legal business on your own.”

And there was the fall. Of course Merlin was just trying to be helpful. Somehow that was worse.

Clearly his psychosis agreed with his conscious mind as the majority of the creatures gathered around him in a circle, only some of the fatter ones opting to stay with the food. The ones that surrounded him opened their mouths in unison and started singing a bizarre, off-key song. It was almost touching, the lengths his brain was willing to go to cheer him up, if also a sign that he should be locked in a psychiatric ward.

“Yes, I'm sure you've got a cunning legal mind Merlin,” Arthur rolled his eyes but smiled. The creatures seemed appeased by that and most of them resumed feasting.

“I'm not going to rise to your insults. I am a better person than that,” said Merlin, sanctimoniously.

Arthur responded by throwing a biscuit at him.

“Well now you're just asking for it.” Merlin threw a slice of pear at him and Arthur caught it in his mouth, grinning smugly.

“Is that the best you can do?” Arthur drawled before Merlin hit him across the face with a handful of olives.

“No, but it was a good distraction.” There was a moment where both of them froze, neither wanting to make the first move. Then Merlin cracked a smile and Arthur dove at him around the fire. Merlin was on his feet faster than Arthur thought possible and began running full pace away from the circle. Arthur paused only to grab a bushel of grapes and charged after him.

“Give up now Merlin, I've been scrapping with Morgana for years, and I always win.” To prove his point he carefully took aim and lobbed a grape at Merlin's ear. It hit its target with a satisfying thwack and Arthur laughed.

“Yes, but sooner or later you'll run out of ammo and then you'll have nothing,” Merlin called over his shoulder.

“I'll have run out because your back will be covered in pino de victory.” Arthur bit into a grape before throwing it, watching as it hit Merlin's left shoulder and left a stain.

“You are so bad at insults it hurts me,” Merlin laughed. “And who knows, maybe you'll be the one wearing the grapes.”

“That's doubtful.”

Merlin only hummed in response before leaping over a fallen log in his path. Arthur made to jump over it too but tripped on the over it on the descent, falling to the forest floor and crushing the grapes beneath him.

Merlin circled back to reach him. “Oh dear, that is clumsy of you Arthur. You've soiled your shirt, how embarrassing.” He reached a hand out to Arthur to pull him to his feet.

Arthur grabbed the mushy pile beneath him and allowed Merlin to draw him up with his other. Once on his feet, he pushed the glob of grapes through Merlin's hair, spreading it in systematically.

“No one likes a clever clogs Merlin.”

Merlin rolled his eyes but stood still, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Go ahead Arthur, you can do this all day. Doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

He raised a challenging eyebrow that Arthur returned before reaching up with his other hand to gel little tufts of Merlin's hair upright with the grape paste. He was working on brushing it all up into a mohawk when he became acutely aware of the fact that they were standing very close together and he was basically just stroking Merlin's hair. So close that he could see the tiny freckles above his right eyebrow and feel the heat coming off him from their run. Embarrassed, he dropped his hands to his sides and shuffled backwards.

“I think you've endured enough punishment for today,” he said, fighting to keep his breathing normal. “Shall we go get cleaned up before we meet your friends? I'd hate for them to think I walk around covered in filth all day long.”

Merlin seemed to be fighting to keep his breathing regular as well. “You'd be filthy all day if you were a farmer.”

Arthur glared at him.

“Just saying.”

Arthur ruffled his hair one more time for good measure and turned back towards their campsite.

They walked side-by-side in silence and Arthur reflected how good it felt to just enjoy someone's company and not feel pressured to say anything. He had never been good with silences; they always made him feel like everyone was watching, waiting for him to mess up. But it didn't feel like that with Merlin. It was more like they were two pilgrims together on a quest. Equals. Friends even. Arthur tried to remember the last time he had spent time with someone he considered a friend, and came up blank. Life in New York had been all about mergers and acquisitions and project reports. He'd spent time with colleagues outside the office of course, but mostly for lunch meetings and the occasional mixer at conferences. He wondered if there was a direct correlation between his lack of a social life and being able to pack the last three years of his life in two suitcases.

Merlin was apparently on a similar train of thought. “Do you ever pretend that you're having an adventure when you're doing really mundane things?”

“What, you mean like pretending you're climbing Mount Everest when you decide to take the stairs over the elevator?”

“Yeah, or you're swabbing the deck when really you're just wiping down the bath.”

“I think everyone does from time to time,” Arthur shrugged.

“Maybe. But not everyone would just admit to it,” Merlin looked at him sideways and grinned. “You're a lot less stuffy than I pegged you for.”

“Oi, I'm insulted. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover? Not that I look stuffy anyway,” he added hastily.

“No, it was more the little speech about keeping the house in order that sent up the warning flags.”

Arthur winced. “I know I already apologised, but I _am_ sorry about that. I think I was channeling my father, being the man of the house and all that.”

“S'ok. Years from now when we look back on it I'll have the satisfaction of being the better person.” Merlin stretched and locked his arms behind his head.

“Years from now I'll just play up how emotionally distraught and confused I was and I'll get all the sympathy points.”

“Devious Pendragon. I like your style.”

“I am pretty much a genius.”

“Clearly.”

Arthur was about to reply with another inane non sequitur when he realised objectively what he was doing was probably considered flirting. The reality of the situation hit him in two parts. The first was that he hadn't done this in a very long time and hoped he wasn't making an obvious fool of himself. The second was that even if he was being completely obvious, he didn't particularly mind. Despite how hard Uther had tried to halt everything when he died, the world kept turning and business continued as usual, albeit at a slightly slower pace. So why should he put his life on hold? Abstaining from dating after he came out to his father didn't do anything to ease their strained relationship. How would ignoring his desires any further help? There would never be a point in his life where his father could forgive him and accept his preference for men. It was either stay celibate forever or take the plunge. Granted, he could wait for someone to come along sometime after the funeral, and perhaps that would be the more socially acceptable thing to do as ‘recent orphan’ hardly screamed dating material. But Arthur had a feeling there was something special about Merlin that was worth fighting for.

It seemed silly, Arthur thought, that he'd just had possibly one of the biggest revelations of his life, and yet nothing was really changed. The ground was still beneath his feet, the sun was still in the sky, a dog was howling in the distance, and Merlin was nattering on about the friends they were going to meet that evening.

“So there's Gwen and Lance who are the only couple of the group right now but they've practically been dating since they were born so it's not even really like being around a couple: more like one really friendly, really polite person who just happens to have two heads. Then there's Gwaine who's a bit of an arsehole sometimes but never to his friends. Don't pull any of that macho posturing stuff around him, he'll do it right back to you.”

“I do not do any macho posturing stuff,” Arthur spluttered.

“Oh come on,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “The whole ‘yes quite pip pip cheerio let's take a turn around the house’ act you put on when you showed up. That is the most British upper class display of cockfighting I've ever seen. And you do strut about quite a bit.”

“I do not strut!”

“Of course you don't.”

“I don't! I…walk quickly. With purpose.”

“Whatever makes you feel better,” Merlin patted his arm in fake sympathy. Arthur jerked it away in mock annoyance, although he'd have preferred to keep Merlin's hand on his bicep for longer. Possibly forever.

“Anyways, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Gwaine is mostly harmless and a good sort. The real trick to him is to give him food. Seriously. The man will eat anything, I don't know how he's not the size of a barge.”

“I feel like you're giving me tips on how to approach a dog. Rule number one: approach with caution and don't be aggressive. Rule number two: once you've gotten close enough, give him a treat.”

“Don't tell him any of that or he'll punch you in the face and most likely start a brawl in the process. He's been kicked out of every pub in this town at least twice, which, by the way, is extremely annoying when there's only four pubs in this town and you want to go out for a drink after a long day's hu-work.” Merlin dissolved into a coughing fit and Arthur slapped him in the back in concern.

“Yes, it must be hard work looking after a big empty house by yourself. I can see why you're so desperate for a drink at the end of the day,” said Arthur, deadpan.

Merlin glared at him between coughs. “This is why Gwaine isn't going to like you.”

“Because he'll be jealous of how funny I am? You underestimate me Merlin. I have every confidence he'll fall prey to my charm and sexual magnitude.”

Merlin's coughing started back up in full force and Arthur couldn't help but laugh.

“Alright, I'll keep a lid on my hilarity while you finish telling me about the rest of your friends.”

Merlin took a few more seconds to get his breathing under control before he continued. “Leon is the size of a small mountain but is the most ticklish person I know. And Mordred is the baby of the group but is super eager, really, he's a bit like a puppy in human clothes, it's adorable. The rest I'll let you find out for yourself since you obviously don't need my help Captain Social Skills.”

“I'm impressed with how easily you kept talking after nearly hacking up a lung. Well done.”

“Another quality for the CV then: can keep a running conversation while suffocating.”

They both paused when they reached the clearing again. From Arthur’s perspective the things seemed to have called a few of their friends and were now in the middle of a roaring party. They whizzed through the air at top speed engaged in what Arthur assumed was some sort of game. Or possibly dance.

And that right there was why it was a bad idea for Merlin to get involved with Arthur; he was clearly so far gone that he was trying to label the specifics of what his delusions were doing. He supposed they could work around that part though. He'd just need to start therapy sessions. Immediately. Possibly with a lot of anti-psychotics.

Beyond the tiny winged creatures that he refused to call the ‘F’ word, there were a couple of new, much larger additions to the circle, sniffing around the remains of their picnic. If pressed, Arthur would have to say that they were similar to dogs, but clearly not any type of dog that actually existed. Large and muscular, they didn't have any fur, just pure white skin that bunched and sagged in odd places on their frames. The bulge of their muscles created odd dips and puckers along their bodies, all the way up to their heads where their dark red ears twitched restlessly. Arthur shifted his weight and a twig cracked beneath his foot. The creatures’ heads snapped up and they whirled to face the sound of the noise. Distressingly, while they didn't seem to have any eyes, they still seemed able to focus in on the spot where Arthur and Merlin were standing. The creature that was furthest away leapt over a log, moving more like a jaguar than a dog, and tilted its head to the side.

‘ _It's just a delusion, it's not real. If I refuse to believe in it then it can't hurt me_ ,’ Arthur thought furiously.

“Maybe we should just leave the picnic here,” Merlin suggested. “I'm sure the foxes will take care of the remains and I can come back for the dishes tomorrow.”

Arthur forced himself to keep his tone level. “You are such a tree-hugger. Let's feed the foxes, honestly.” He faked a put-upon sigh and began to lead them out of the forest, keeping a wide berth between them and the circle. The dog-things, thankfully, followed their progress with their heads but never moved from the circle. Just as they reached the edge of the clearing, one of the winged creatures flew over to Arthur and began chittering at him. Arthur tried to ignore it but it was very animated and insistent. When it seemed to have run out of words it tapped his shirt pocket, gave him one last tiny smile, and flew over his shoulder to rejoin the party.

“Come on then Merlin, lead on,” Arthur gave Merlin a gentle shove. It earned him a frown but it got Merlin in front of him and walking towards the manor. He turned around to take one last look at the clearing and sighed in relief. Everything had vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as he was back in his room, Arthur bolted the door and collapsed against it. It was getting worse: his delusions or breeaks from reality or whatever they were. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes angrily. Was itsome kind of misplaced loyalty to his father that was causing them? Because he hadn't seen the dog-things before he had accepted that dating Merlin might be an ok thing to do.

Or maybe he was one of those self-hating gays; the more he gave himself over to allowing himself to be happy, the worse his subconscious made his life.

Or maybe he genuinely was going crazy.

He didn't feel crazy though - he was still functional in all aspects of his life except that he saw little people doing comically stereotypical things like dancing around circles and sleeping in flowers. And now dogs that looked like they could be from an episode of Supernatural. But all that aside; he was fine. Totally fine.

He let out a sigh and gathered his toiletries. It took him an embarrassingly long time to find a bathroom that had an actual shower, but once he was under the hot water he felt a little bit better. He'd just suffered a major life trauma, he reasoned. Everyone deals with stress differently; maybe my way is imagining lots of horrible creatures. Makes the reality of what happened seem less tragic when you constantly have to pretend you aren't crazy.

‘ _Except this happened way before Uther died_ ,’ a nasty little voice reminded him, ‘ _you've been seeing things since you were little. You've just been pretending you haven't_.’

Arthur turned the cold tap on full to distract himself. He stood under the spray for as long as he could manage, which was a rather pitiful seven seconds, and got out to dry himself off. Tying the towel around his waist, he grabbed his dirty clothes, opened the door, and walked straight into Merlin, who was looking over his shoulder as if at something behind him.

“Jesus, Arthur!” Merlin's head whipped around as they collided. Arthur's arms instinctively grabbed Merlin to right him, dropping his clothes in the process.

“Steady on. You haven't had a cheeky drink already, have you?” Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“What? No! I was, em,” his eyes cast around for something to fix on and Arthur was pleased that Merlin seemed unable to look at his bare chest. “I thought I heard a something so I followed the sound up here. I had just lost it when I heard it again behind me and I was trying to figure out where it was coming from when you so rudely ran into me. So there.” Merlin poked a finger at his chest.

Arthur flexed and smirked when Merlin gulped and retracted his finger slowly.

“What do you think made the noise?”

“Woodworm, definitely woodworm. It's a real problem for old houses like this. If you leave them be they'll spread like wildfire.” Merlin's face was reaching a truly impressive shade of red; Arthur would have let go if he wasn't having so much fun.

“Hmm yes, I can see how woodworm would be a problem. In a house made of wood. Which this is not.”

“Aw yeah, but see the real danger is these are mutated woodworm so they've actually developed a tolerance to burrow through stone as well.”

“Of course they are,” Arthur released him and took a step backwards.

Merlin swayed slightly on the spot as if he was considering following Arthur before he balanced himself properly.

“You don't have to be embarrassed Merlin, it's ok if you just wanted to come up here to ogle my physique.”

“Ogle your what?” Merlin sputtered. “Now hang on - ”

“I know how impressive I must look to a country boy like you, but if you eat right and work hard enough, you too can look like a god among men.”

“Did you have to train to become this big a prat or does it come naturally to you?”

“Pay careful attention to my gluteus maximus as I bend to retrieve my fallen clothes.”

“I bet you were born with it, weren't you? Half of this has to be genetics, there's no way anyone can achieve this level through practice alone.”

“Try not to get too excited watching my rippling back as I walk down the hall.”

Arthur was almost at the end of the hall when Merlin called to him.

“Wait, you dropped your coin!”

“My what?” Arthur turned around to see Merlin jogging to meet him, hand outstretched. When he reached him, he handed Arthur a coin. It wasn't a design Arthur recognized, but it was very shiny and obviously quite well-cared for. One side bore a simple crown design, the other, a dragon. There were words carved along the thick edges but Arthur couldn't make head or tails of the language.

“This isn't mine,” he frowned.

“It’s not mine either. It must have fallen out of your trousers.”

“My trousers don't have pockets.”

Merlin blinked at him. “What kind of stupid trousers don't have pockets?”

“Very expensive designer trousers. Which are now properly ruined by the way.”

Merlin opened and closed his mouth and shook his head. “Why am I even - it must have fallen out of your shirt pocket then.”

He wrapped his fingers around Arthur's until the coin was tucked snugly in the palm of his hand. “Hang onto it, it might be worth money someday and we both know how much you like that.” He ruffled Arthur's fringe and walked away.

“Ha bloody ha. You're so funny _Mer_ lin.”

He was disappointed that Merlin didn't turn around at his taunting and huffed as he walked down the hall to his bedroom. He changed quickly into an outfit he hoped would be suitable for impressing Merlin's friends without making it look like he bled money. It wasn't until he was pulling on his trousers (which had pockets, no need to give Merlin the satisfaction twice) that he realised the importance of the coin. The coin he'd never seen until it fell out of his shirt pocket; the same shirt pocket the thing in the forest had patted, that had definitely been empty before their outing. But what the hell did it mean?

He picked up the coin and looked at it. It was definitely real. Was his brain manifesting physical objects now? And why had Merlin been able to see it too? Panic gripped him round the middle, making it hard to breathe. Did he just imagine that whole scenario with Merlin in the hallway? Was Merlin even in the hall? If he went downstairs right now and confronted him about it would Merlin look at him in confusion or would his brain cover for that conversation as well?

Did Merlin even exist?

Arthur sat down hard on the floor and hung his head between his knees, hand tightening painfully around the coin. He felt like he was going to be sick. Clearly he was far worse than he'd thought. Impulsively, he whipped the coin away from him as hard as he could. It ricocheted off the wall and fell down behind the wardrobe, hitting the floor with a dull clunk. Arthur gave himself another sixty seconds to fall apart before pulling himself on the bed and pulling his socks on. Tomorrow he would go into London, see if he could get an appointment with the solicitors and get some work done on his father's will. If it really was guilt over disappointing him, getting his arrangements in order might help his damaged psyche. For tonight however, there was only one solution he could see: get absolutely pissed and forget everything.

***

Arthur was the first to arrive in the foyer and paced restlessly back and forth until Merlin appeared on the landing, umbrella in hand and looking annoyingly attractive.

“If I had of known we were re-enacting the date scene from ‘Beauty and the Beast’ I would have worn a gown.”

Arthur privately thought that Merlin would look quite fetching in a gown but muttered, “With that umbrella I think we'd be better off going with ‘Mary Poppins’.”

“Fair point, but I think it'd be easier to have dinner and dance than to have me float down the staircase and nanny your non-existent children. Ooh, or we could combine the two and I could nanny the servants like Lumiere and Cogsworth! Although, that is kind of my job already, just without the flying bit.”

He looked at Arthur and frowned. “You're very quiet suddenly? No witty remarks on how Mary could never nanny in the enchanted castle because the beast would eat her? Fine, what if I take the crossover farther and have the Banks family living in the West Wing and that's why the beast doesn't want Belle going in there? Mary could have teleported the whole family in like she did with the chalk drawings and now the beast has gotten a little attached but he's ashamed to tell Belle about the upper middle class family he secretly dotes on.”

He paused. “Seriously? Nothing? Are you alright?”

Arthur felt it would be safer to keep his mouth shut and went with what he hoped was a casual nod and shrug of the shoulders. Apparently he wasn't quite as successful in his delivery as he had hoped, because Merlin's frown deepened as he started down the stairs.

“Look, if you're worried about what I said earlier, I'm sure you'll do fine.”

“What?”

“Getting along with Gwaine. There's nothing you could do that could actually piss him off to the point of hating you - well, I mean, if you killed someone then yeah, maybe, but he gets over ordinary things eventually. He's mostly just a lot of hot air. Kind of like you.”

“Right, Gwaine,” Arthur muttered.

Merlin came to a halt beside him and ducked to look him in the eyes. “Arthur, are you alright? We don't have to go if you don't feel up to it.”

Arthur made the mistake of looking Merlin straight in the eyes. There was such unabashed concern there that Arthur felt something in his chest loosen. He really needed to work on his defences around Merlin.

“No I'm fine, I want to go.”

Merlin still looked skeptical so Arthur put on his best ‘I'm-a-real-person’ smile and shrugged. “I think the house is just getting to me.”

“Ah, now that I can understand. Come on then, the fresh air will do you some good.”

He crossed the foyer and wrenched open the heavy front door. “As will the rain,” he said, watching the drops pelt down to the ground, “Rain is definitely good for you. I bet you haven't felt the goodness of Welsh rain on your skin for decades.”

“Stop trying to make it appealing Merlin. You've cheered me up considerably, but rain is still rain.”

“General cheering is all part of my duties, I'll make sure to pass along your commendations to Gaius,” said Merlin. Despite it being a lot of nonsense, Arthur thought Merlin did look a little pleased with himself. “Now back to the task at hand. I hope you brought your umbrella.”

“Why yes, Merlin, let me just pull out my magic shrinkable umbrella,” Arthur rolled his eyes, making a show of reaching down his shirtsleeve. “Oh no, it's shrunk so much it's vanished!”

Merlin had quite possibly the best poker face Arthur had ever seen.

“You mean you don't have an umbrella? Who moves to Wales without an umbrella?”

“First off, this trip was on slightly short notice,” Arthur watched as Merlin's eyes widened in horror but ploughed on, “but more importantly, I lived in New York which receives proper amounts of rain and has cabs that ferry me from point A to point B, completely negating the need for an umbrella.”

“You've got to be kidding me,” Merlin looked disgusted.

“No, why?”

He shook his head in mock sadness. “I had such high hopes for you Arthur. You'd proven me wrong so many other times I thought for sure you'd do it again. But now I see I was mistaken.”

“Mistaken about what?”

“You're just as much as a yuppie city boy as I thought you were.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest but Merlin put a hand over it and patted his arm.

“It's okay Arthur, don't try to fight it. The first step on the road to recovery is admitting you have a problem.”

“I do not hav- ”

“Shhhh,” Merlin pressed down more firmly on his mouth. “I'm going to take my hand away now, but you try your best not to say anything. It'll make the healing process go so much faster.”

He turned away and pulled the loan spare umbrella out of the stand by the door.

Arthur looked at it in distain. “There is no way in hell I'm using that.”

“It's this or get soaked,” said Merlin cheerily.

“No. No way in hell. Why do you even own a flowered umbrella?”

“I want to say one of Gaius' lady friends left it but I'm not entirely sure.”

“Gaius had - no, you know what? I don't want to hear it. Give me your umbrella and we can go.”

“Are you taking the piss?”

“No. I need it.” Merlin's umbrella may have been bright red, but anything was better than the flowery monstrosity Merlin was brandishing at him.

“No! Gladys is broken, I'm the only one who can use her properly,” Merlin pouted.

“You…you named your umbrella? And you went with Gladys?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“So?”

“So, Gladys? You are so much more ridiculous than I anticipated,” Arthur shook his head and a genuine smile came to his face. “That's it. You definitely get the flowered one.”

“But it's mine!” Merlin protested.

Arthur lunged forward and grabbed one end of the red umbrella but Merlin held tight to the other. After a brief struggle, they wrestled their way to a standstill, Arthur realizing Merlin was definitely stronger than he looked.

“Yes, and this is my land so technically everything here belongs to me.”

Merlin tugged on his end of the umbrella but Arthur held on firmly.

“You know that's not actually how ownership laws work right?”

“Yes, but I can't meet your friends carrying a flowery umbrella. I'll lose all my potential street cred before I even open my mouth.”

“The fact that you just used the term street cred seriously makes me doubt your ability to ever have it.”

Arthur looked at him with widened eyes and did his best attempt at a pout while still looking manly.

It seemed to work because Merlin let out an irritated sigh and looked up at the ceiling. “But, fair point. Just stop making that face, you look daft. And don't get mad at me when Gladys fights you and you get wet.”

“I think I can handle your precious Gladys.” He opened the umbrella with a flourish and twirled it around as he stepped outside. “Coming?”

“Don't say I didn’t warn you,” Merlin shrugged.

They set off at a brisk pace, angling their umbrellas to stop the worst of the rain from falling on them. For all of Arthur's complaining, he was quite glad to be out of the house for a night. Although, back there in the foyer he'd almost completely forgotten his delusion problems. All because of talking nonsense with Merlin. Somehow in the short space of time he'd known him, Merlin was saving Arthur from all of his worst demons. And he could never know, Arthur thought a little wistfully.

“This walk isn't going to kill you right? I mean, I was taking the piss about the cabs, a bit, but you are actually capable of a fifteen minute walk on top of our earlier outing, yeah? You aren't going to keel over from a heart attack or anything?”

And then there was his ability to somehow make fun of Arthur while make himself more endearing at the same time. “Your concern is touching, but unnecessary. I'm fit as a fiddle,” Arthur puffed out his chest.

“And apparently an eighty year old man if your colloquialisms are anything to go by.”

“Shut up. At least I don't name inanimate objects.”

“Much like the cast of ‘Beauty and the Beast’, Gladys is not inanimate. You'll see why once we hit the main road.”

“Oh god, you've rigged it to collapse after five hundred paces or something like that, haven't you?”

“Nope, your doom will be completely of your own making,” Merlin replied sunnily.

“That's not very comforting.”

“It wasn't meant to be.”

“Why Gladys anyways? Why not something cool like ‘Dean’?”

“First of all, if you think Dean is a cool name, I don't see why I should even bother with this conversation. Secondly, Gladys is a brilliant name. I named her after GLaDOS from Portal.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“You don't know what Portal is? Seriously? It was _the game_ of our uni years. How did you manage to get through school without playing it?”

“Maybe because I was using my years at university to, I don't know, study and achieve the grades required for success?”

Merlin burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you were a total swot weren't you?”

“I was not!”

“Oh, you so were! I bet you showed up on day one and everyone went, ‘Yeah, I bet that Pendragon kid is going to throw some ace parties, but then the first Friday rolled around and you were that kid who only came out of his room to say ‘can you lot keep it down? Some of us are trying to study’. My little billy, no mates.” Merlin reached over and tried to waggle Arthur's chin.

“That is so far from the truth I'm not even going to dignify it with a response,” Arthur jerked away and tried his best to ignore Merlin's outrageous laughter.

“How did you get so fit then?”

Arthur blushed but Merlin was either unaware of what he had said or too caught up in the moment to care. “Wait, I know. It was lugging your books around all day, wasn't it? I bet you were the type to have a rucksack and carry a book bag in your hand, or no, one on each arm!”

“If you're quite finished,” Arthur interjected over Merlin's laughter, “I'll have you know I got fit being a member of the rugby union football club. I played lock and I still got a First overall,” he finished smugly.

“Wow, you sound like you were a right riot,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Let's see if you can put that athleticism to good use as you fight with Gladys.”

Arthur was slightly put out that Merlin hadn't shown any sign of awe at his uni accomplishments but tried not to let it show. “So explain to me, why Gladys?”

“Ok, so Portal is this puzzle-solving game where basically you're a subject at a lab and this computer named GLaDOS is running you through all these tests.” Arthur watched with rapt attention as Merlin's face lit up with enthusiasm. “Each level is a puzzle you have to solve and you go through ten or so before GLaDOS tells you that she has everything she needs and tries to off you. You escape obviously, so you're still in the lab, but behind the scenes trying to take GLaDOS down from the inside. The reason I named the umbrella Gladys is because, like GLaDOS, she has a bunch of different ways she tries to trip you up.”

“I can't believe you have the gall to call me a swot when you're a total nerd!”

They turned onto the main road and Arthur was immediately put to the test, fighting to keep hold of the umbrella, the wind blowing on all sides.

“I never said I wasn't,” Merlin shrugged. “But at least I wasn't an econ boffin.”

“I am not a boffin!”

“Of course you aren't. And three, two, one.”

“What are you-” the rest of Arthur's sentence was cut off as the wind caught the umbrella and flipped it inside out.

“Way number one she tries to kill you: flipping inside out.”

Arthur didn't respond so much as growl as he tried to right the umbrella. He wiggled the locking mechanism to little effect, the cold rain lashing down on his face doing nothing to improve his humour.

“Angle her into the wind; that helps.” Arthur shot a glare at Merlin who was watching Arthur struggle with barely contained glee.

“Thank you Merlin, I never would have thought of that.”

“You're welcome,” Merlin said with a sing-song lilt in his voice.

Arthur finally managed to retract the umbrella back to its collapsed form, but as he reopened it, the handle pulled off the stick.

“Way number two: the broken handle.”

“Arg! Why do you even have this stupid thing if it's broken?” Arthur fought to push the handle back on the stick but the rain made it difficult to get a grip.

“Don't talk about her that way; it'll just make her angry. Well, angrier. She's a bit ragey most of the time anyways.”

“You say that like we're having a perfectly normal conversation,” Arthur grumbled. “Ah-hah! Success!” He gently eased the umbrella open again and started to push the lock in place. “Where's your god now you stupid-”

“Way number three: the umbrella flying off the top of the stick.”

“This is stupid,” Arthur shouted over his shoulder, chasing after the wayward canopy. “As soon as we get into town I'm binning this and buying you a proper umbrella.”

“No, you can't! Gladys has character, and besides, I can fix her!” Merlin looked genuinely horrified that -Arthur would even suggest throwing her out and dear god, when had it become a ‘her’ in his mind?

“Umbrellas aren't supposed to have character Merlin. Their sole purpose is to keep the user dry. Does it look like Gladys is doing her job right now?” He gestured at his waterlogged clothes which were rapidly turning a darker shade and clinging to his body in what he hoped was an attractive way, but most likely made him look like a drowned rat. “Besides, one of the arms is broken on it now, look.”

He held out the canopy for Merlin's inspection.

“I can fix that too! I'm quite handy with a needle and thread. And the rest is easy to fix with some super glue.”

“Why do you care so much about an umbrella?”

Arthur collapsed the stick and shoved it in his coat pocket before pulling open the canopy and holding it over his head like a particularly stupid sun bonnet. This proved mostly ineffective as the canopy refused to remain taut and the majority of the water ended up running down Arthur's arms and into his sleeves. “I’ll buy us both new ones and we can chuck that naff flower one as well.”

“Ugh, your flagrant consumerism hurts me. First it was just Gladys on the chopping block, but now you want to axe Boris too?”

“Oh god, you've named _that_ one?”

“Of course I have. Boris is in the pay of the Russian mob but likes to arrange flowers in his spare time, between hits.”

“Of course he does. I am definitely buying us new umbrellas.”

“I won't use it.”

Arthur struggled to hold open his makeshift rain guard against the wind but moved in close enough to bump shoulders with Merlin. “Mmm, nice, big, black ones with plain handles and no personalities at all. And then when they break I'll chuck 'em and buy new ones.”

“Consumer whore.”

“I'm not ashamed to admit it.”

“Here I was hoping you'd be different, that there'd be a man behind the clothes. How wrong I was.”

“I have many layers Merlin. They're just expensive, designer layers.”

“You're wearing designer clothes right now? I have a shirt just like that from Primark.”

“Maybe I'll buy the entire stock of umbrellas and set up an umbrella museum in the manor and charge people to come look at my vast and unnecessary collection.”

They had just crossed into the limits of the town when Arthur realised there was possibly a small hitch in his plan to go on an umbrella shopping spree.

“Why is everything closed?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the road.

“It's after seven.”

“So?”

“So this isn't New York and things close at a reasonable time.”

“My god, I've moved to the Dark Ages,” Arthur whispered in horror.

Merlin burst out laughing and Arthur turned to glare at him.

“Sorry,” said Merlin between peals of laughter, “It's just, you look so sad about not being able to shop. I don't think I've ever met anyone who likes to spend money as much as you do.”

“You've met Morgana, haven't you? If you think I'm bad you should take a look at her credit card bills.” He was about to suggest they continue, when he caught sight of a bin in the corner of his eye. Collapsing the umbrella, Arthur strode towards it, looking forward to viciously shoving the thing inside when Merlin's hand caught his wrist.

“It was fun before but please don't throw her out Arthur.”

Arthur looked down at where Merlin's hand was wrapped firmly around his wrist and up the long line of Merlin's arm to his face. His umbrella partially blotted out the light from the street lamp behind him and the flower pattern cast odd shadows on his face, making him look almost hesitant and shy.

“I - okay,” Arthur swallowed.

Merlin's entire face lit up and somehow outshone the lamp light behind him. “Thank you, Arthur,” he said softly.

Arthur thought he felt him rub his thumb gently against his wrist but the sensation was over too quickly to tell.

Merlin used his grip to haul Arthur in close to him. “Here, we can share this one until we get to the pub. I know how anti-flowers you are but it's this, or be soaked.”

“I'm already soaked,” Arthur grumbled, but he couldn’t find it in him to be in a bad mood with Merlin pressed tightly against his side. Either he hadn't realised how cold he was or Merlin was actively radiating heat. They continued further into town, albeit somewhat slowly given that fitting two people under one umbrella is never easy, or, graceful. Rounding what Merlin proclaimed to be the last corner, they ended up in front of a dodgy looking pub with a sign that read ‘The Green Night’.

“Shouldn't Knight have a ‘K’ on the front of it?”

“If this were a pub named after a man wearing a green suit of armor, then yes. In this case however, the pub was bought and christened in the 1960s by Gwaine's grandfather who was apparently very fond of smoking weed. The story Gwaine tells involves his grandfather and the previous owner hot boxing the pub and having some sort of food fight to decide who got ownership. He named it after their night of, and I quote, ‘epic drug use’ to honour the previous owner who, I can only assume, lost because he came down with a serious case of the munchies.”

“Is any part of what you just told me true?”

“With Gwaine, who knows,” Merlin shrugged and pulled open the door. “The good news is we seem to have beat everyone else here so you're spared the mortification of being seen standing under a flowered umbrella.”

Merlin ushered him through the door and Arthur was immediately hit by a warm blast of fragrant air and the sound of good cheer. The interior of ‘The Green Night’ was everything Arthur had expected it to be and more. Wooden panels that matched the floor rose up the bar and halfway up the wall before whitewashed stone took over. The walls were covered in clocks, decorative plates, and other assorted knickknacks that always seem to materialize at Christmas and from car boot sales but somehow worked here in their eclectic mix. The locals were clearly riding their usual stools and several of them nodded or waved to Merlin as they made their way towards a table by the fire.

“Should I be worried about your drinking habits? You seem to be quite a fixture here.”

“Shut up. It's the only pub in town we're guaranteed not to get thrown out of. Alright, that's not true, but we don't get thrown out of here if Gwaine is the one who's working.”

Merlin scanned the bar and his mouth twisted into a grimace at the sight of the bartender. “Which he's not tonight, apparently.” Merlin tried to right his mouth into a smile and gave the bartender a little wave. The bartender scowled and turned away to serve one of the men seated in front of him.

“And that would be?”

“That's Gwaine's cousin Gaheris. He's not quite as jovial as Gwaine, and is the staff member most likely to throw us out if we get too rowdy. Gareth is the one I was hoping to see tonight.”

“Good god, do they all have ‘G’ names?”

“Born to Gary and Gertrude. It's a bit sick-making, I know.”

Arthur looked up to see Gaheris shooting daggers at the back of Merlin's head. “He really seems to dislike you.”

“Ah well, you know how it is,” Merlin mumbled and turned slightly pink.

“There's a story here, isn't there?”

“There most definitely is not.”

“Well now you have to tell me.”

Merlin resisted meeting his eyes until Arthur laid his head completely on the table, twisting so that he could stare directly into Merlin's eyes. “Come on Merlin, I'm making a fool out of myself in front of my new neighbours for a story that probably isn't as interesting as you're making it sound.”

Merlin's eyes rolled to the ceiling and stayed there. “Gwaine sent me over to distract Gaheris one night while he cleared up the remains of a statue he'd knocked off the mantle and I was really drunk and it seemed like the best way to distract him was to make out with him a tad.”

Arthur took an immediate dislike to Gaheris. His right eyebrow rose. “Was it just making out?”

“You know you don't look remotely threatening with your head on the table like that.”

“You're not even looking!”

“I don't have to; I can tell your expression from your tone of voice.”

While it was entirely too endearing that Merlin could already match his mood to his voice, it still didn't answer the question. “Was it just making out?”

“Of course it was just making out. And some light groping. From him. But as soon as he started that, I pulled away with some horrible line like ‘don't call me, I'll call you’. I'm ninety percent certain I tried backing away from him and miming a phone with my hand but I'm not entirely sure because I tripped over a table and blacked out for the rest of the night. Gaheris has been arsed at me ever since.”

Merlin apparently deemed it an appropriate time to look down from the ceiling so Arthur lifted his head up off the table.

“All I've learned from this story is that you have a drinking problem.”

“Come now, there are several morals to this story. The first of which is don't ever drink tequila, no matter what you're celebrating. If by some fluke you trip up and accidentally ingest tequila, make sure you don't let Gwaine do the thinking for you: his plans are always a bad idea. If you completely fail at items one and two, make sure Lance is there as a wingman to make sure you get home okay and isn't busy doing shots from Gwen's cleavage while all of this is going down.”

“I'm starting to understand why you lot get kicked out of pubs so frequently and I don't think you can blame it all on Gwaine.”

“Don't take his side on this. It is _always_ Gwaine's fault.”

“Of course it is. I'll get the first round then, shall I? Or do you want to reconnect with Gaheris?”

“You can get the first round, but it's because you exude money, not because I'm afraid to go over there.”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Arthur grinned as Merlin hunkered down into a sulk. He crossed to the bar and ordered two pints of whatever was on tap, which came with minimal glaring but no conversation from Gaheris. Arthur turned round to carry the drinks back to their table and found it now seated two more people than when he'd left it.

Merlin smiled when he saw him return. “Arthur, this is Gwaine and Mordred. Arthur recently inherited the Pendragon estate.” Merlin shot the newcomers a significant look which puzzled Arthur but the other two seemed to understand perfectly.

“Hi, Arthur, I've so been looking forward to meeting you,” Mordred stuck out his hand and shook Arthur's enthusiastically.

“Looking forward to it? I've only been in town two days,” said Arthur, puzzled. Mordred's mouth fell open and he looked to Merlin for assistance.

“He's just happy to have someone living in the house again,” Gwaine interjected. “There's not many young people around here and we're always happy to add another to our little group.”

Arthur turned to look at Merlin but Merlin just shot him an overly cheerful smile and took a large sip of the drink Arthur handed him. Out of the corner of his eye, Mordred flinched and Gwaine looked pointedly in the other direction.

“So how do you all know each other then?” asked Arthur, hoping to break the uneasy moment. “Merlin never mentioned that part.”

Merlin and Mordred answered at the same time with “school” and “work”. Arthur watched as the three of them exchanged wide-eyed glances and Mordred subtly angled himself away from Gwaine before continuing.

“What we mean by that,” he said, reaching down to rub his shin under the table, “is that we met at school first and now we all work together.” Mordred looked at Merlin with a hopeful smile, but Merlin continued to look as though he was fighting off a panic attack.

“That's normal enough, I don't see why you're all being so dodgy about it.” Arthur slapped Merlin on the back and gave his neck a little shake. Merlin continued to sit rigidly on the edge of his stool. “So do you all work for Gaius then or some part of the parent company?”

Gwaine and Mordred both turned to Merlin as if waiting for instructions.

“We all kind of work as a team,” Merlin rushed over his words awkwardly. “I head up the estates and take care of general maintenance, Gwaine and Lance do the heavy lifting and construction, Gwen does the aesthetic touches, Leon takes care of the books, and Mordred is kind of the general apprentice.”

“That's nice that you've all stayed so close since uni,” Arthur commented, “and that so many vacancies opened up at the same time.”

“It's a funny old world that way,” said Gwaine cheerfully. “But I am nowhere near drunk enough to be talking about work on a Friday night. Mordred m'lad, would you like a drink on the house for all the…fine, apprentice qualities you displayed this week?” Gwaine winked at him and Mordred looked flustered.

“I'll have a cider please.”

“Bah, that's no fun. I'll make a whiskey drinker out of you yet!” Gaheris was occupied at the other end of the bar so Gwaine waggled his eyebrows cheekily and hauled himself over the bar.

“No helping yourself if you're not working, that's what got us in trouble the last time,” Merlin hollered after him.

“Just let him be Merlin, you know he's going to do it regardless of the consequences,” Mordred sighed.

“Is this your reward for doing all the grunt jobs?” asked Arthur. “Clean toilets all week and then get free drinks on Fridays?”

“Eh, kind of. I'm meant to be Merlin's apprentice but I find Leon's um, work, far more interesting.”

“What, taxes and bookkeeping?” Arthur snorted and Merlin elbowed him in the side.

“There's that, but there's also other stuff like market research and property values and researching the history of the building,” his voice had ascended an entire octave by the end of his sentence and Arthur thought the poor kid must be trying to convince himself that the work was interesting.

“My, you're red in the face for someone who hasn't had his first drink yet.” Gwaine had returned, pushing a glass of what was definitely not cider in front of Mordred, who closed his eyes and took a gulp of whatever was in the glass.

“Ugh, that's horrible, what is it?” he grimaced.

“Double black and red which means it's got - ”

“No stop, it's already in me, I don't want to know,” Mordred shuddered, and they all laughed.

“What are we laughing about?” asked a woman, draping an arm across Merlin's shoulders.

“Oh, just the usual; picking on Mordred. I'm ninety-nine percent sure whatever's in that glass contains whiskey,” Merlin turned into the woman's body and wrapped his arms around her. “Arthur, this is Gwen,” he said pulling away but keeping an arm around her waist. “Gwen, Arthur.”

Arthur privately thanked whatever god was responsible for giving Merlin the foresight to say Gwen was married to Lance. He'd feel bad hating someone who looked as sweet as Gwen.

“It's a pleasure to meet you Arthur,” Gwen smiled at him.

“And she means it too, she's disgustingly earnest our Gwen is,” Merlin jostled her with his arm and Arthur smiled as she slapped Merlin's shoulder.

“So is today the day you've finally decided to be finished with that tosser and date a real man?” Gwaine leaned across the table and rested his head on his hand.

“It is if said real man would let me braid flowers into his hair,” Gwen dimpled at him.

“You drive a hard bargain, Smith.”

“It's DuLac-Smith actually.” Gwen freed herself from Merlin's arm and took a seat beside Mordred, grabbing hold of his arm to pull herself up onto the stool. “Lance will be along in a minute, he's just getting the drinks.”

They all looked over to see a lone dark-haired man trying to flag Gaheris down to his end of the bar. He turned and waved to them sheepishly.

“So,” said Gwen, resting her head on Mordred's shoulder, “Have we started taking bets on what time we're getting thrown out of here tonight?”

“Oh ye of little faith. Does no one trust that I can hold it together for one night?” Gwaine braced his hands behind his head and leaned back.

“No,” was the unanimous response back.

“Come on, mate,” Gwaine turned to Arthur imploringly. “You don't even know me yet!”

“He doesn't have to,” said Lance, seating himself beside Arthur and passing Gwen her drink. “Merlin will have given him the highlights. Did you tell him about the time with the goat, Merlin?”

“Ooh no, that's a good one though. It all started with - ”

“Sorry to interrupt, but if you insist on going through my greatest hits you'll leave me no choice but to go off and drink on my own and we all know how that ends.”

“Yes,” said Lance, “With all of us chucked to the kerb holding the tether of a very stubborn goat, trying to pool our money together to buy Old Man Baines a new toupee.”

“I don't even remember how the goat got in the pub in the first place.” Gwen rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“Wait, weren't there two goats? Or am I thinking of a different time?” Mordred scratched the side of his face idly.

The conversation turned to general mayhem as the table argued over the finer points of the story which included whether there were multiple goats on that night and if the goats were siblings or mates, all of which was apparently terribly important to the telling of the tale.

Merlin leaned over to whisper in Arthur's ear, “Having fun yet?”

“Actually, yes. Now I feel a bit silly being afraid of showing up with a flowered umbrella. They don't seem the type to judge.”

Merlin laughed softly and Arthur shivered at the hot puff of air that grazed his neck. “No, I don't think any of them would have a leg to stand on if they did.”

Arthur would have very much liked their private conversation to continue but Gwaine chose that moment to break up the goat conversation.

“Hang on, who are we missing?” He turned to Gwen. “Is your brother still in town?”

“No, he got called away on, ah, business,” she bit her lip.

“Oh, does he work with you all, too?” Arthur asked her.

Gwen's mouth opened but before she could respond Merlin cut in. “Yes, he's our supplier, but he's a bit of a freelancer so he's gone quite a lot. Where is it he's gone this time Gwen, a stonemason's convention is it?”

“No, not this time. It's actually a metal workers’ trade show. He's very interested in some of the iron pieces they have.”

“Like fire pokers?” asked Arthur.

“Yes. Exactly. Fire pokers and, ah, fences! Iron wrought fences are very in right now.” She bit her lip again and her shoulders drooped.

Arthur glanced around the table to see Gwaine and Mordred trying to contain their laughter.

Lance reached out and squeezed his wife's hand sympathetically. “Iron fences are very in right now,” he said diplomatically.

Arthur watched Gwen re-inflate a little at his words and the pair shared an adorably gooey look. It was almost unbearably sweet to watch, as if he was walking in on a private moment, but he figured it was a regular enough occurrence when the rest of the table burst out in fake gagging noises.

“Save it for the bedroom folks. If you're still functional enough to make eyes like that at each other you need to catch up,” said Gwaine over the top of his glass.

“It's barely half eight,” Lance objected.

“And it's a Friday. Fridays negate all laws of social acceptability when it comes to drinking.”

“Not like you follow those rules any other day of the week,” Gwen rolled her eyes but took a big gulp of her drink.

Arthur joined in with the rest of them as they cheered.

“I'm going to have to carry you home again, aren't I?” said Lance in the tone of a man very much resigned to his fate.

Gwen shot him a sheepish look. “I'll carry you home next week?”

“Sod it; we'll just get a cab.” Lance downed half of his pint in three chugs. “We have to show Arthur here a proper welcome.”

“That's the spirit love birds,” crowed Gwaine.

“This is why we always get thrown out,” Merlin sighed.

“Well don't imbibe too much just yet, we still have to wait for - ” Arthur looked past Lance to see the person in question making her way towards them. “Morgana!” he called, puzzled to see a tall, burly man close at her heels.

“And Leon,” Merlin frowned in confusion. “How do you two know each other?”

“We don't really,” Leon started.

“Nonsense,” Morgana patted him fondly on the arm. “Leon here was my knight in shining armor earlier when my car wouldn't start. I offered to buy him lunch in return for fixing it and when we got to talking and found out we were meeting the same people later in the day it seemed silly to part ways.”

Leon beamed at her words and reminded Arthur forcibly of a six foot something teddy bear. “Let me get you a stool. Gwaine, budge up at the end there to make room.”

“Oh dear, Leon's found a new toy,” Gwaine muttered as he shifted to the end of the table.

“If I know my sister, it's probably the other way around,” Arthur whispered back.

Gwaine laughed and clinked glasses with him, causing Morgana to turn round and fix them both with a calculating glare.

“Alright, this is the last set of introductions I'm going to do so everyone pipe down and listen up,” said Merlin as Leon returned with a stool. “Leon, this is Arthur, Morgana's half-brother. Everyone else, this is Morgana. She works in fashion and makes a mean bacon butty. Now let's all cheers and get the night started.”

“Here here,” said Gwaine, throwing his arm over Merlin's shoulder in a way that Arthur did not approve of one little bit. “But before we do, can I have a quick word outside?”

Arthur very carefully pretended to be listening to the group conversation at the other end of the table.

“It's ah, work related.” Arthur felt Merlin's eyes shift to him before he answered.

“Fine, but make it quick. It's Friday after all.” They slid off their stools in tandem and Arthur watched Gwaine manhandle Merlin all the way out of the pub.

“Don't worry,” said Gwen sympathetically, “Gwaine is always very tactile like that.”

“I wasn't worried,” Arthur bluffed. He buried his face in the rest of his drink.

“No, of course you aren't,” Gwen's eyes followed the progress of his glass as it raised higher and higher into the air.

He slammed the empty glass down on the table perhaps a little stronger than necessary but Gwen was the only one who appeared to notice, if her little smile way anything to go by.

“So Arthur, it's great to finally get to meet you. I've heard so much about you,” said Leon, finally pulling his gaze away from Morgana.

“From whom? I know your life is boring Morgs, but surely you have more to talk about than just me?”

“We had plenty to talk about you egomaniac. If you must know, you only came up briefly when I mentioned how tiring it is to put up with you all the time now,” she simpered.

Arthur pulled a similar face back before a thought struck him.

“If you didn't hear about me from Morgana, then who did - ”

“Anyone for another round?” Mordred practically leapt off his stool.

Leon picked up his empty glass and sniffed it. “Alright, who let young blood near the whiskey?”

“Who do you think?” Lance rolled his eyes.

“Ugh, I knew there was whiskey in there,” Mordred moaned. “Can I drink cider now, or will that give me a hangover? How does that saying go?”

The conversation deteriorated with all of them chiming in various bits of the limerick and Arthur could sense a pattern forming. Their group interacted. It was rather like watching a pile of kittens jumping on each other, all vying for attention. Arthur had never been allowed to have pets as a child, but he liked to imagine that if he had of, they'd have acted like the scene playing out in front of him.

“Alright, so I'm safe to drink anything now?” asked Mordred.

“Technically yes, though I wouldn't take that as a challenge,” Leon cautioned.

“Righto, Bossman.” Mordred saluted him. “Arthur, do you want anything?”

“Yeah I'll get something else, but I should check with Merlin first. Apparently I'm his designated supplier tonight.”

He started for the door, spinning off balance as Mordred caught his arm.

“Maybe you should just stay until he comes back inside. In fact, you just wait here, and I'll get your drink for you. I'll get both your drinks for you, I'm a very good fetcher,” Mordred's eyes were wide as he babbled and Arthur gently ushered him back to his seat.

“Tell you what,” he said, pressing carefully on his shoulders and forcing him back on his stool, “you don't sound like you're in any shape to walk right now, so you rest up and I'll get you a water AND a cider if you promise to sip at it.”

“I, uh,” Mordred looked down the length of the table but Gwen and Lance were caught up in each other’s’ eyes again, and Morgana and Leon seemed, disturbingly, to be taking a leaf out of their book. Surrendering to the inevitable, Mordred sighed meekly and said, “I'll take a Black Dragon please.”

“Good man,” Arthur thumped him in the shoulder, and made for the door before anyone else could intervene.

All in all, Arthur thought as he weaved his way outside, it was shaping up to be a well good night. Maybe it really was the house getting to him. After all, he hadn't seen any more creatures on the way into town and he doubted he was creative enough to dream up the entire pub and all Merlin's friends as illusions, so overall he was quite pleased with himself for keeping the madness at bay. He pulled open the door and walked outside, thanking his lucky stars that the rain had stopped. Stumbling slightly as he stepped over the doorframe, he braced himself on the conveniently located rain barrel.

Merlin and Gwaine were not right beside the door as Arthur had hoped. He tried to push away the onslaught of visions which involved Gwaine pushing Merlin up against an alley wall and sucking a bruise on his neck, but he was spectacularly unsuccessful. Apparently his imagination was a lot better than he gave it credit for. He gripped both sides of the rain barrel and prepared to give himself a mental shake when he saw quite possibly the most disturbing vision he'd had to date.

Inside the rain barrel was a miniature horse, swimming circles around the perimeter. Arthur watched, transfixed, as the horse propelled itself under the surface, leaving nothing but ripples in its wake. He knew what he should be doing was running the hell away from the weird water pony and getting a nice strong scotch, but what he actually did was pull out his phone and turn on the light. Despite the reflection, he could just make out the horse merrily diving to the bottom of the barrel before floating upwards again.

With the benefit of the light and a good look at it, Arthur supposed he had to change his classification from water pony to water something-that's-not-quite-a-pony since its hindquarters dissolved into ribbons of fins instead of a proper horse rear. Its mane was also made of the same thin membrane that swirled in the current the thing was creating. It rose back up to the surface and began a leisurely backstroke, which to Arthur was a clear sign of his mental instability as horses aren't designed to do the backstroke. It let out a joyful whinny as it paddled. Arthur opened the camera app, took a shuddering breath, closed his eyes, and pressed capture. He opened his eyes slowly and clicked the camera roll, his thumb hovering over his latest picture. Biting the bullet, Arthur pressed down quickly and forced himself to look. The photo captured the entirety of the barrel but was devoid of any sort of watery equus.

Arthur staggered backwards, his deepest fears confirmed - he was one hundred percent without a doubt seeing things that did not exist.

‘ _It's alright. It's fine. Stick to plan one: have a lovely binge drink and then seek professional help in the morning. All you need is liquor. Lots of liquor. And Merlin_. _Lots of Merlin as well. Lovely Merlin, lovely liquor and you'll be sorted_.’ Either he hadn't drunk in a while or they made beer quite a bit stronger in Wales because his thought processes were getting quite out of hand and he was at the point of working himself up into a real tizzy when he felt a hand on his shoulder and Merlin’s voice.

“Arthur?”

“Liquor?” asked Arthur as he spun around. “I mean, Merlin, care for some liquor? My treat. Has Merlin told you? I'm very wealthy and entitled.” He was vaguely aware from the looks he was receiving that he was probably smiling like a lunatic. Then again, if he was going mad, he might as well embrace it completely.

“I'm not entirely sure you need liquor right now,” Merlin said slowly. “Did you shoot something before you came out here?”

“Not a drop. What about you,” he turned to Gwaine. “I've heard you can drink the back legs off a mule.”

“I think you're mixing your sayings,” Merlin muttered, but Arthur was looking at Gwaine who had a bit of a sparkle in his eye.

“Well if that's my reputation, I'd hate to disappoint. Come on then Princess, you're buying.” Gwaine held open the door and Arthur all but pulled Merlin through it and up to the bar.

“What'll it be?” Gaheris grunted at him, pointedly not looking at Merlin or Gwaine.

“Porn stars and blow jobs for all, please,” replied Arthur with a wink. Beside him Merlin let out a gasp and Gwaine burst into laughter. Gaheris ignored them all and started mixing the shots. “Actually, make it a double round. And you can keep my card ’til the end of the night,” Arthur slapped his wallet on the bar and fished about for his credit card.

“That's a little lewd for the locals, don't you think?” asked Merlin, slightly pink around the ears.

“They can suck it up. And you're adorable when you squeak,” Arthur smirked at him.

“I did not squeak!”

“I like him Merlin, why haven't you brought him around before?” asked Gwaine.

“Because until three days ago, I lived in America,” Arthur replied, tucking his wallet back into his pocket and zipping it tightly. If his faint memory of the uni days were anything to go by, he tended to be a careless drunk when it came to his possessions.

“America did right by you,” Gwaine saluted him with the first shot and knocked it back. “Gaheris mate, you do good blow jobs.”

“One foot out of line and you are gone Cousin. I'll make sure father never lets you back in,” Gaheris grumbled.

“Come now, think of the Christmas dinners and Auntie Gabby.”

“There's more G's than just your immediate family?” asked Arthur, downing the next shot and passing one to Merlin.

“Aye, I come from a proud line of G names.”

“This is not going to end well. I can feel it,” Merlin whined.

“Alright then G-man, you go round up the others and send them over for their drink orders. As I'm sure Merlin will tell you, I love spending money.”

Gwaine laughed. “Only if you promise to never call me ‘G-man’ ever again.”

“We'll see how the night goes, but I can't make any promises.”

Gwaine headed back to their table.

“You should go with him and make sure we don't lose the table. I expect there to be a stampede for alcohol any second now.”

“What's gotten into you? You've been all over the map today. Are you sure you're alright?”

Arthur couldn't tell if it was the alcohol, or simply the Merlin Effect, that was making his stomach do funny things because of the intensity of the look Merlin was giving him.

“I'm fine Merlin, really. Nattering with your friends is the most fun I've had in a long time and I just want to give them something back.”

“Oh Arthur,” Merlin cocked his head to the side, “didn't anyone ever tell you money doesn't buy you love?”

“I know, but I figure alcohol is a good way to start.”

“Fair point,” Merlin sniggered.

“Seriously though Merlin, go defend our territory. I will not have my epic night of being King of the Booze spoiled by us losing our table to a bunch of seedy locals.”

“This seedy local takes offence to that statement.”

“Get gone,” Arthur gave him a gentle shove and laughed as Merlin sauntered at the slowest possible pace back to their table.

He let himself admire the view for a brief moment before turning back to Gaheris. “Quick, give me a double shot of whatever bottle is closest to your hand.”

Gaheris looked at him like he'd seen brighter piles of wood but acquiesced, handing him a glass. Arthur knocked it back quickly and forced the glass back on him, only registering the taste after it had passed down his throat.

“Ugh, what was that?” Arthur wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Sambucca,” Gaheris shrugged. “You said whatever was closest.”

“Never let me do that again,” Arthur scrubbed at his tongue.

“I really don't care.” Gaheris rolled his eyes and moved down to the other end of the bar.

Arthur raised one of the shots to his mouth, intent on getting rid of the foul taste. It dawned on him that perhaps washing the taste of alcohol out of his mouth with more alcohol wasn't the best idea he'd ever had.

‘ _Well, at least I'm guaranteed to end up sloshed_ ,’ he thought, employing his fondness for glass-half-full-kind-of-thinking. He tipped the shot down his throat, mentally chanting a mantra of ‘ _I don’t' believe in fairies, I don't, I don't_ ’.

He was interrupted when Morgana draped herself along the bar beside him. “Why does Merlin think you're a binge drinker?”

“I have no idea. You try to buy a man a drink and he acts like you're an alcoholic.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How many have you had tonight?”

“You'll have to be more specific than that. I've ingested several different types and quantities thus far.” He swept a hand through the air as if it would somehow explain the predicament Morgana had put him in.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes,” he replied promptly, because lying to Morgana was a difficult thing to manage when sober.

“Oh Arthur, I thought you were better than this,” she sighed. “Please, _please_ don't go on a rich boy drinking binge because your estranged daddy died and you don't know how to handle it.” She put a hand on his forearm and rubbed it gently.

“Why does everyone keep thinking this has to do with him?”

“Because in the past three days you've gone from being my sweet baby brother to a raging arsehole and now, to the life of the party and a drunk, and the only thing that's changed is Uther isn't breathing anymore.”

‘ _That's not the only thing that's different. Except I can't tell you about that bit_ ,’ Arthur thought bitterly.

“I wasn't a raging arsehole to Merlin _today_ ,” he replied petulantly. “We got on quite well.”

“Yes I gathered. He seems quite taken with you. Do try not to break his heart.”

“I - that's - I don't know what you're talking about,” Arthur stuttered.

Morgana raised both her eyebrows in a look that clearly said ‘you are so obvious it pains me to even have this discussion’.

“Look, what you get up to with Merlin is your own business. But if you have to drink yourself into a stupor to feel comfortable making a move on him, it's my duty to point out how messed up and unhealthy that is.”

“No! That’s completely not what's happening here!” Arthur’s voice rose ’til he was nearly shouting.

He swayed a little and let Morgana steady him back against the bar.

“This isn't about Uther and it isn't about my closeted homosexuality, which it's not by the way, I just fail horribly at dating. I just want to have fun for once Morgs.” His voice came out mortifyingly soft at the end but it seemed to work to his advantage as Morgana's expression changed to one someone might use when watching a baby take its first steps.

“You called him Uther,” she said quietly.

“So?”

“Twenty-six years and I've never heard you call him anything other than ‘Father’. Not ‘Dad’ or ‘Daddy’ but Father. And you just called him by his first name.”

“I don't know what to tell you,” Arthur shrugged and blew a raspberry. “Things are changing. You know I wasn't happy in New York, and yes, he might have left a mess behind in his Will, but this could be a clean start for me. I can't explain it, but things just feel so, so _right_ here.”

_Well, everything except the mild psychotic breaks, but I’ll deal with them tomorrow._

“I know it sounds daft but it feels like I've - ”

“Known them for years?” There were tears in Morgana's eyes as she finished his sentence.

“Yes! I know we said this move was temporary but I don't know, I think I might like it here on a more permanent basis. Obviously this would give me more time to deal with the legal issues, and frees you up if you want to go back to Italy or god knows where else, but regardless of the Will, I think this might be the right place for me.”

“No, no. I feel the same way. There's just something about it here and these people that make it feel like home. I'm just so proud of you for figuring it out on your own without me planting the idea for you.”

She flung her arms around his neck, and despite feeling somewhat insulted, Arthur hugged her back tightly. Their hug might have gone on infinitely had it not been for Leon sidling up to them sheepishly.

“I was nominated to come and make sure that everything was okay, and check that we're allowed to drink at Arthur's request. Because everyone would like that very much,” he looked over his shoulder to their table and Arthur saw everyone gathered around, looking as if they were all holding their breath.

“Morgana?”

“Yes, yes, of course it's fine,” she wiped her index fingers along the bottom lids of her eyes, “who am I to stand in the way of a party?”

Leon smiled and gave the all clear sign to their table. A great cheer went up and Arthur and Morgana both laughed.

Morgana detangled herself from Arthur and turned to face Leon. “So what's good to drink here? I'm a bit rusty on my Welsh alcohols.”

He moved to lean on the bar beside her. “The Black Dragon is, well, good if you're a cider fan, but I'm a Brains man myself. Can't go wrong with SA Gold.”

“I might have to try one then,” Morgana's laugh was soft and lilting like her business voice. The one she put on when she wanted people to do things for her.

‘ _Poor Leon_.’ Arthur was suddenly despondent, ‘ _I hope he knows what he's getting into._ ’

Although Arthur loved his sister, unconditionally and whole-heartedly, she was definitely something else.

And he felt the sudden and inexplicable need to impress upon Leon how his sister was not the type to be trifled with. With his brain pickling merrily away in the large amount of alcohol he'd just downed, he decided the best way to demonstrate Morgana's temper was to gently squeeze himself between the two of them at the bar.

“Whatever you do, don't let Gaheris pick your drinks. The man is a right bastard.”

He heard a pointed cough behind him and turned to see Gaheris glaring at him.

“Don't cough at me, you served me liquid licorice,” Arthur sneered.

With great difficulty, he turned round in the tightly confined space to find Morgana and Leon both gawking at him. He slung an arm around both of them and grinned. “Where did we leave off? Oh yes, Leon was recommending us drinks.”

“No, Leon was recommending me drinks,” Morgana shrugged his arm off her shoulders, “You seem to be well acquainted with the local brews already.”

“I am not. I don’t think I've had anything local all night, except maybe the pint but that was a very long time ago. Do go on, Leon, expand my education on Welsh brews.”

Arthur gave Leon a little shake. Leon, for his part, looked rather terrified at being trapped, metaphorically, between the Pendragons.

“Why don't you see what the hold-up is at the table?” Morgana asked Leon sweetly. “Apparently I wasn't quite finished talking to my dear brother.”

Leon made his exit with a grateful look at Morgana. Once his back was turned, Morgana rounded on Arthur forcefully.

“Arthur love, are you intentionally trying to cock block me or are you really this fascinated with what's on tap?” Arthur opened his mouth but Morgana held up her hand for silence. “Just think carefully before you answer because the wrong one could have some very dire consequences.”

The odd mix of porn stars, blow jobs, and sambucca seemed to have bolstered his confidence. Where his sober self would have treaded very carefully around Morgana, his drunk self seemed to take her words as a challenge.

“Why? What are you going to do to me?” he asked tauntingly.

“I'm not above shaving your head while you sleep.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Try me. Now back to the cock blocking.”

“Please stop saying cock blocking.”

“Cock. Blocking.”

“You don't even have a cock.”

“No, but Leon has one and I want it and you're getting in the way, ipso facto cock blocking.”

“I don't think that's an appropriate use of ipso facto.”

“I'm sick of this game and you have exactly five seconds to explain why you're cock blocking me or I swear to god the razor is coming out tonight.”

“I don't even see why you like him. How would it work it practical terms? You're five foot four and he's a six foot tree.”

“Yes, just think of the size of his cock,” Morgana licked her lips crudely and Arthur covered his face with his hands. “Look, I understand you're a little frustrated with the whole Merlin situation, but please don’t' take it out on me and my vagina.”

“There is no situation!”

“Of course there's not.” She grabbed a bottle at random from behind the bar and turned to walk towards their table. “Just remember, Arthur, my razor is fully charged. Always.”

Arthur gave an involuntary shudder and looked back at their table where Merlin seemed to be holding some kind of meeting. A blonde woman crossed his line of vision on her way to a stool down the bar and he was temporarily distracted with how familiar she looked. She was thinner than he remembered but her hair was wild as ever and Arthur felt for certain that he had the right person in mind.

“Elena?” he ventured.

The woman turned towards the sound of his voice. She looked puzzled for a moment before responding. “Arthur? Arthur Pendragon?”

“Hello,” he gave a little wave back and Elena flung herself off her stool and barreled into him.

“Oh my god, Arthur! What are you doing here? I haven't seen you since when, my sixteenth birthday?”

“The horse themed one where you challenged us all to a race and half your guests left with saddle sores or sprained ankles?”

“To be fair, that's how most of my parties go, but my sixteenth was particularly bad.” She laughed. “It's so good to see you! How long are you in town for?”

“Undetermined at the moment. My father just passed away so Morgana and I have moved back to the manor temporarily to sort out his affairs. We'll see though, I quite like it here.”

He glanced over Elena's shoulder to see Merlin watching him with a frown.

Elena's hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Oh, I'm so sorry! It’s hard to lose a parent so early in life. My dad actually passed away last year which is why I'm back out this way too.”

“Oh god, please tell me you have his Will sorted by now.”

“Yes, that took all of two seconds. It was pretty easy given that Dad was retired and his Will consisted of one page that said ‘Elena gets everything’. That's what I loved about Dad; he was always so straight to the point. But I'm out here because I turned the place into a youth camp for horseback riding. We get all sorts that come out here for speciality sessions, and I like to come up and help out whenever I can. Right now we've got a group with movement disabilities staying with us for two weeks.”

“Wow Elena that's - good for you!” he smiled, a little stunned. “You've made much better decisions with your money than I have.” Elena giggled and looked down as the screen of her phone lit up.

“Shit, I have to dash. I was supposed to be meeting a friend here but she’s decided she fancies the Auspicious Pig instead. It was great seeing you again though!”

She gave him one last hug and Arthur watched as Merlin took a swig from Morgana's mystery bottle before he started making his way towards them.

“Listen, why don't you come for dinner this Sunday? We can catch up properly and I'm sure Morgana would love to see you too.”

“That sounds lovely, but could we do Wednesday instead? It's my only free this week. Maybe I'll even ride over. Do you still have a functional stable?”

“I'm sure we could spruce it up to your high standards by Wednesday.”

 “You haven't changed a bit, have you?” Elena snorted again and punched him on the shoulder. “I've really got to run. See you soon!”

She wove her way through the crowd, only tripping twice on her way out, which was a low number for her if Arthur was remembered their childhood summers properly. Once outside, she pretended to blow Arthur kisses which he made a great show of wiping off his face and waved at her until she turned the corner.

“How do you know Elena Godwyn?” asked a sudden voice directly to his left.

Arthur nearly fell off his stool. “Jesus Christ, Merlin. Warn a bloke.” He clutched at his rapidly beating heart and tried to move backwards to allow for a normal amount of space to exist between them but found that he had nowhere left to go.

“Did you just decide to chat her up or do you actually know her?” Merlin looked as though he'd been sucking on a lemon and it took all of Arthur's will power not to reach out and twist his lips even further.

“I knew Elena from when we were kids. My father used to ship Morgana and I off to the Godwyn's every summer for break. Did you actually come all the way over here to interrogate me on my relationship with Elena, or is there a point to all this?”

Merlin huffed and rolled his eyes. Up close, Arthur could see just how long Merlin's eyelashes were. It was a little bit infuriating.

“I was sent because apparently Morgana wants to have sex tonight and somehow that makes you my problem. Also to get more alcohol, which, can I just confirm we aren't stealing? I know Gaheris has your card but he does know we took the bottle, yeah? It'll be charged to your account?”

“Um, yesssss,” Arthur said slowly. “Let's get our next order in quickly though just in case he notices it's missing.”

Merlin let out a wail and Arthur laughed, using Merlin's shoulder to support himself as he swung off the stool. Merlin's arm caught him around the middle as if they'd done that particular move hundreds of times. The two of them stood with their arms draped loosely around each other for a beat before they both dropped them simultaneously.

“Either order something or move along, you're blocking the bar,” Gaheris called down to them.

“We'll take twenty-four more shots please. Dealer's choice,” Arthur hollered at him.

If they had of been in an episode of Looney Tunes, steam would have shot out of Gaheris' ears while a smokestack sound effect blared comically in the background. In reality, Gaheris' ears stayed steam free as he slammed the glasses down on the bar.

“Let's leave him to it, we can come back once he's got the first round done,” Arthur grabbed hold of Merlin's shirt and dragged him back towards their table.

“Are you sure you don't want to stay and supervise? We might end up drinking straight liquor.”

In the end, Arthur probably should have heeded Merlin's warning, as what Gaheris proceeded to serve them was probably straight liquor. The group went from mellow and pleasantly buzzed to sloshed in a neat hour. Once the shots were done, Gwaine appointed himself drinks master and came back from the bar with all manner of fruity cocktails. Someone decided Leon and Mordred should have a contest to see how many tiny umbrellas they could stick in their hair and the girls spent a quarter of an hour impaling the men's curls. It was reminiscent of a slightly deranged game of Jenga and Leon was proudly crowned the winner at half nine. Arthur watched fondly as Leon threw both arms in the air in victory before pulling Morgana into a bear hug.

“That's adorable,” said Merlin, swaying slightly on his stool.

Arthur put a hand on his back to steady him. “A mountain of a man with tiny umbrellas in his hair or the new relationship blooming before our eyes?”

“The umbrellas obviously,” Merlin hiccupped. “Their relationship repulses me. Wouldn't be surprised if they get even more disgusting than Gwen and Lance.”

“You have a lot of strange feelings about umbrellas.”

“Umbrellas are great, everyone loves umbrellas!”

“I've never heard anyone say they love umbrellas.”

“Well now you have. I love umbrellas!”

“Do you make a habit of falling for things that can't love you back?”

Merlin turned in his seat to look at Arthur directly. “Unfortunately yes.” Arthur felt something shift in the tone of the moment but didn't know how to rectify it. He let his arm fall away from Merlin's back awkwardly and cast around for something to bring the mood up again.

“Do you know why I didn't want you to throw Gladys out?”

“Because you're a sentimental fool?” Arthur smiled but Merlin remained oddly serious.

“Because I don't want you to carry a black umbrella. I don't want to see you become one of those monochrome suits that goes to work and goes home and maybe has a drink on a Friday. The kind that goes to weddings of their distant cousins and leaves once the dancing starts and the kind that collects coffee table books and other sorts of mediocre possessions that fill up the empty spaces but don't have much substance.”

Arthur swallowed. “That's who I was in New York.”

“I know. That's why I want you to keep Gladys. So you always have a bit of colour in your life.”

“I-” Arthur was prevented from responding by Gwaine brandishing a drink in his face.

“Come on lads, we've got enough gooey eyes going on right now.”

Merlin whipped his head around as if he'd been slapped. “I've got to go to the toilet.” He jumped off his stool and practically ran to the loo.

Arthur glared at Gwaine. “What did you do that for?”

“I just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing Princess. I like you, but you've also got a lot on your plate right now.”

“You know, for the first time in a long time, it feels like I know exactly what I'm doing.” Gwaine gave him a hard look but Arthur met his gaze levelly. Gwaine broke the tension with a smirk and slid the glass in his hand across the table.

“Good on you then Arthur.” He raised his glass in a toast and Arthur copied him. “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings.”

 ***


End file.
